“But we’re really through on Guam?”
Even with his evident exhaustion, Werhner looks better than he has for years—deeply tanned, clear eyes. “That also checks out through closed SciCom program. I’m your navigator, Rawley, I don’t put you on. The results from the ship’s investigation stand: ‘Accidental collision with unknown interstellar material, forces tidal in nature.’ The report’s thin, sure. We lost all that data when program pontoon blew. But there is what there is, that’s all. Now everybody agrees.”
“Christ,” I say. I’m slightly giddy, run my hand over the caning in the arm of the chair. “I feel like we’ve just landed. These last two weeks have been very strange, it was strange enough on Guam, it never quit for me….”
Collette brought us tall mint juleps, we sit around a small wicker table in the shade. Palms rustle lazily, flap; the water gurgles at the intersection of sand and shallow bay.
“I actually worried about you,” Werhner says, glancing with raised eyebrows at Collette. “Now that I get here, I’m jealous. Hong Kong’s not like this.”
“Well, you’re here now,” Collette tells Werhner with a smile. “You ought to stay.”
I spend a few minutes telling Werhner how I’ve been chased by Taylor since Guam, how Collette’s been involved. Werhner surprises me again. He had a brief talk with Taylor when the ship landed, Taylor wants to see me at 1800 today in the console dome, Dome A of the ship, to hand me my official orders and to conduct an exit interview. Werhner went through his on the spot, waves his orders at me like a small fan.
“Dome A,” I say. “That’s fitting.” I mention to Collette that Dome A was the place we worked.
“So you get to see his ugly face one more time.” Werhner grins. “There’s a man,” he says, still talking about Taylor, “launched up his own asshole. Excuse me, Collette.”
Collette says no excuse is necessary, and thanks the high heavens she’s seen the last of Colonel T.
Werhner’s going to stay, leaves to arrange for a cabin for the last leg of theTube’s flight. After he processes in, he says, he’s going to find his cabin and go to sleep; up at 0300, he’s been in transit all night. We’ll see him again after lunch, maybe do some diving here.
Sitting in the warm shade with Collette, I take a deep breath of salt-rich, fresh air, look out to sea across the bright sand—a few scattered clouds on the horizon, snow-white, the sky brilliant, washed blue.
VIETAHITI VENTURES//
FIRST-CLASS PASSAGE//
//shuttle trams continuously between Vietahiti Beach/BaliHi/theTube//
//new options every hour
Vietahiti Beach//
—catamaran and trimaran sailing
—zodiac availability
—deep-sea transparent sub
—all aquaplease options continuous
BaliHi Mountain Palace//
—arboretum and jungle walk
—paradise park
—queen’s garden of delights
—epicurean consensus
//shuttle trams continuously between Vietahiti Beach/BaliHi/theTube//
//new options every hour//continuous programming in each cabana//
our service is your pleasure//your pleasure our service
@ thePleasureTube corp.
Collette and I join Erica and Tonio for an early lunch at the Palace Garden Club, an elegant restaurant set in the gardens alongside the large building with the red and gold roof tiles I saw when I swam out from the beach—the Mountain Palace. We are a few kilometers inland, up the slopes of the larger volcano, in a belt of high jungle. The air is noticeably cooler here, fresh and crystalline, the climate seems perfect. Peacocks strut among the tables, iridescent blue and green, clucking softly. Collette says we ought to bring Werhner here later to see.
Tonio is telling us how he managed to get an exceptional performance from a numb actress for a videon series he directed. She was, he says, the only zombied Juliet he’s ever seen—she had an expressionless face and a flat voice besides. “So I put her in a grope suit,” he explains, pushing back his hair with a well-manicured hand, grinning. “I had her wear a grope suit under her costume. She was fantastic—panting, her voice turned into honey—and her eyes, the color she got. She was just fantastic.”
“Sweet Juliet,” Collette says flatly. “Good God.”
I look at Tonio with puzzlement. “All right,” I ask. “What’s a grope suit? I heard a woman say she carried one in her luggage.”
“Tonio,” Collette says, “you are to-the-core decadent. To the core.”
Tonio gestures with his palms up, smiling. “Ah, but what an interesting play Romeo and Juliet turned out to be. You can appreciate that, Collette, try to imagine it.”
“A grope suit,” Erica tells me, sighing behind her sunburn, “is made out of latex, and where your erogenous zones are, there are bumps and things that squeeze you when you move, and mainly a knob, see, that goes in. And there are suits for men, too.”
“Indeed there are,” Tonio says quickly. “But look at this person—oops, he’s coming this way. She’s coming—no, don’t turn, you’ll embarrass me. Rawley, I think she knows you. She was looking for you.”
I do turn slowly to follow Tonio’s line of vision, toward the other tables between us and the bamboo bar, the monkey cages. Eva Steiner, dressed in a black jump suit, is striding our way. Beyond her, the pasty, fiftyish man with the thin hair I remember from the grandstands at LasVenus is seating two women at a circular table; they must have just come in.
“I thought it was you.” Eva Steiner smiles—she’s pale and a little drawn, obviously hasn’t yet been to the beach. “Though this dark one I recognized first,” she continues, her eyes flashing for an instant at Collette. “Captain Voorst. Rawley.”
Seeing her now brings back both the final moments of our race and the grim end for Massimo. For some reason, perhaps only because she knew Massimo, I feel a pull of sympathy for her, feel bad that I didn’t even respond to her invitation. I ask Steiner evenly if she’s having fun, introduce her around the table.
Tonio’s cocked head straightens and his slightly glazed eyes become businesslike. “Of course,” he says. “Director Steiner. What a pleasure. Do sit down. May I…?” Tonio goes on, giving Erica a wide-eyed glance. Eva Steiner ignores him.
“You must have heard the news by now,” Eva Steiner says to me. “Congratulations. Eight months until a new assignment? I envy you.”
“How do you know?” I wonder out loud. “I don’t even have the orders yet.”
“I was hoping you’d stop by my cabin the other day,” she goes on, ignoring my question. “I was hoping you’d come. We missed you.”
Who is this woman? I ask myself. Deliberately I tell her I’ve been concentrating on more relaxing things than she might have in mind. “I am on leave,” I say, then notice that, for all the politeness I am trying to generate, she still returns a strange electricity. My skin prickles as her expression changes to a wider smile.
“But you owe me,” she says. “It’s only fair. I wanted to talk to you about this yesterday. Listen to me, Captain Voorst. My hydroplanes are here. On the west end of this island there is a sheltered bay, perfectly flat. Ideal conditions. We can race.”