The kilt-wearing man watched him, picking at his ear clip. Maybe he was trying to tune it to another station, or maybe he was simply nervous.
“There’s the answer to your question,” he said all of a sudden.
“What question?”
“Why I change ships so frequently. You fell into the usual trap. It’s hard to admit to being prejudiced, but working alongside a natural is unpleasant. You’ll take me aboard and then try to get rid of me at the first opportunity. With the best of references, of course, because pilots can’t lie.”
“Yes, we can.”
“Don’t make me laugh, Captain. We haven’t signed the contract yet—I can ignore seniority for the moment. So let me just say…” Generalov puffed his cigarette, smiled. “… this would, by the way, be another chance for you to back out. Who needs a troublemaker for a navigator? And no, Captain, you are not capable of lying. The capacity for love is removed in all pilots, and that’s very useful. Those who love are not inclined to take risks, except, of course, for the sake of those they love, and a pilot must be ready to die at any moment. But to balance it out, all your other moral qualities are enhanced—integrity, kindness, loyalty, generosity. I bet you’re the kind of guy who would jump out on the road to save a lousy mutt, and rescue kittens from a tree, and contribute to charity funds, and give alms to every beggar you pass. So, for you, lying is an agonizing process, extremely unpleasant and almost impossible. Pilots prefer to keep things back, or to dodge the question, rather than lie. You do resent me, don’t you?”
“No,” Alex forced himself to say.
Respect lit up Generalov’s eyes for a moment.
“You are a strong man, Captain. What’s your sign?”
“Aries.”
“And I’m a Virgo.” Generalov smiled. “It’s a good combination, you know. We’ll get along. Give me that contract of yours!”
Alex silently handed him the form.
Puck looked through the standard lines, shrugged at the numbers.
“Not bad…”
He licked his finger and pressed it down to the identification point. Then he separated the sheet in half, gave one part of it back to Alex, and stuck the other into a pocket on his kilt.
“You are now a crew member of the spaceship Mirror,” Alex told him.
At this, Generalov straightened up, as though he had been pierced through with a stiff pole, and his face lost the smirk he’d been wearing.
“Your orders, Captain.”
Only his eyes still retained a tiny spark of irony.
“To change into a standard navigator uniform. Get rid of facial paint. Be at the ship tomorrow at nine a.m.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
“That will be all.”
“Permission to spend the evening in the bar, Captain.”
“That is your business,” said Alex after a moment’s contemplation. “But I need you to be in top working shape in the morning.”
“Of course.” Puck seemed to be waiting for other orders.
“Have you been job hunting a while?”
“A month.”
“Okay. Are there any master-pilots here in the hall?”
Generalov did not even look around.
“Only one. The one who approached you first.”
“All right… see you tomorrow.”
After the navigator left, Alex threw back his sake in one gulp. Found the waiter with a glance, made a light gesture in the air, as if signing his check. That sly natural had really put one over on him! One should never underestimate the genetically unaltered, never! First that absurd question about his attitude toward gays, as if it were any of the captain’s business who his crewmembers slept with. And then, after Alex had declared that he wasn’t biased, came the real blow.
A navigator who was a natural… impossible!
And what would be the reaction of the other crewmembers? Janet, who had five specializations? The young engineer, just out of college?
Well, if any of them protested, that would be another reason to back out… no, unfortunately, Janet had not signed the contract yet. Unless Paul Lourier refused to trust his life to a natural…
For a second, a crazy thought flashed through Alex’s mind—what if he were to ask, or even to order, the engineer to oppose Generalov’s candidacy? Paul had signed the contract earlier, and from a formal point of view, Alex had a duty to consider his opinion.
The thought came and passed, leaving an unpleasant trace. On one point, Generalov was absolutely right. Lying was hard for pilots. This was part of the price they paid for the stars. Along with their inability to love other humans.
A waiter came. Alex paid his bill and quickly left the dining hall. Two vacancies remained unfilled, but he had an idea about one of them. It was a crazy idea, but it was worth a try.
The hotel front desk had yet another clerk behind it this time. This fellow did not pay any attention to Alex and beamed at the mere sight of the captain’s uniform. Such important customers were rare at the Hilton.
Alex went up to his room and touched the doorbell sensor. Caught himself feeling intensely curious. Had Kim really waited for him, or had she preferred to disappear, having first cleaned out the room’s credit line?
One always had to pay for believing in people’s honesty. But Alex found a strange, perverse pleasure in it on those rare occasions when his faith was vindicated.
Kim opened the door.
She had waited!
Alex shook his head, though he was glad to see the unfeigned joy on the girl’s face.
“Kim… I asked you to block the door. You didn’t even look through the peephole.”
“How do you know?”
“When the door camera is on, the lens turns on an infrared light. I can see it clearly.”
“Oh…” Kim stepped back from the door to let him pass. “Well… I didn’t have to look. I knew it was you.” Now it was Alex’s turn to be surprised.
“How did you know?”
“By the sound of your steps. You have a peculiar walk, as if you’re trying not to lift your feet from the floor.”
“Oh? I hadn’t ever noticed…” Alex closed the door. Looked down at his feet. “Do I drag my feet?”
“You don’t drag them, you just hurry to put them back down. And you never let both feet leave the ground at the same time!” Kim jumped up. “What are you so serious about? I am sorry I didn’t look through the peephole. I’ll get in the habit, I promise!”
“If both your feet leave the ground, that means you’re running…” Alex bit his lip. Both your feet… and if your feet and legs and pelvis leave without your consent, that’s called a work-related injury. “Kim, I get it. There’s no artificial gravity on Hamsters and other system freighters. I trained on those for about six months. And got used to depending on Velcro. Or maybe it was a part of my specialization. To never lose my balance points.”
Kim’s interest in the subject seemed to be exhausted.
“That’s great. Very useful precaution, friend-spesh. See how I’ve spent your money?”
She spread out her arms and whirled around, all the while trying to keep him in her field of vision.
“I see. You’ve changed.”
Her worn-out jeans and sweater had been replaced by a black pantsuit. In it, Kim resembled a young professional. Her white blouse and a tiny black tie further enhanced this resemblance.
“Does it look good on me?” asked Kim.
“Yes, very good.”
The girl smiled.
“And you look good in your uniform.”
“You even look a little older,” Alex continued. “You might pass for someone who’s had her metamorphosis six months ago and been through some accelerated training courses already.”
“Why? Is that important?”