"Miss Colmer, if you don't. . ."
"And be quiet," Davo added firmly to Kurla, his hand on her forearm, cautioning obedience. "The sooner we take off, the better it is for Prane, right?"
She subsided, still rebellious. To aggravate matters, Ansra Colmer smiled triumphantly at her capitulation.
"Let's go," Davo said, nodding over his shoulder toward Helva.
"Thank you, Mr. Fillanaser, and welcome aboard the XH 834," Helva said quietly, achieving an impersonal tone with some difficulty. "Fasten your harness for takeoff." Ansra Colmer interrupted her swinging only long enough to comply. "Miss Ster, may I inquire if Solar Prane's disability will be affected by standard takeoff velocities?"
"Not when he is cushioned by the shock-mattress."
"And by drugs," added Ansra snidely.
"Solar Prane is not under sedation," the M.A. snapped, trying to rise, and restrained by her harness.
"Ansra, leave her alone! Prane is not on drugs and never has been!"
"I am receiving clearance for lift-off," Helva said, mendaciously forestalling another exchange. She even leaked a little engine noise into the main speakers.
As she began to jockey into position, Helva kept an eye on Prane. He was cushioned by the shock-mattress, all right, but if he could barely tolerate full grav, blastoff would rack him with pain. She decided a fast takeoff would spare him more than a gradual acceleration. She piled on the power and watched him black out from pain in a brief minute.
The instant she was free of Duhr's attraction and on course for Regulus, she cut all thrust, even the little spin she usually maintained for the comfort of her passengers. He was unconscious, but the pulse in his throat beat regularly.
"I've got to get to him," Kurla was saying in the main cabin.
When Helva looked there, the medical attendant was ludicrously flattened against the far wall of the main cabin.
"Then move slowly," Davo was advising her. "You've been in half-grav long enough to know violent action brings equally violent reaction."
"If you only knew how asinine you looked," Ansra said.
"Solar Prane passed out before maximum thrust, Miss Ster," Helva reported, "but he appears in no distress."
"I must get to him." Kurla was insistent. "His bones are so soft."
An orthopedic problem? And he was permitted in space? Were they out of their minds? Then why such cerebral excitement?
"Shall I return gravity? The shock-web will. . ."
"No, no," Kurla protested.
"If you think I'm going to travel free-fall all the way to Regulus, you've another think coming," Ansra said, the amusement wiped from her face.
"The longer he has without any gravitic stress. . ."
"Too bad," Ansra snapped back. "I know what happens to me in constant free-fall and I'm not having. . ."
"Flabby muscles, dear?" Davo grinned at her. "You can always join us in a thrilling workout of isometrics. And you'd better get used to free-fall. You certainly heard it mentioned in our briefing. . . since you're so attentive to briefings. . . that the company will play entirely in free-fall. Get used to it."
"I also heard it mentioned that our minds were what would be transferred. It's my body that's involved at present."
"And it's Solar Prane's body that must rest now," Kurla flung back, managing to move forward toward the cabin. "He is only the director of the entire company."
"In the interests of compromise, ladies," Davo said, "let's use half-grav while we're awake, and free-fall when we're all snugly meshed in at night and don't know any better."
"Can that be arranged?" Kurla looked hopeful. "The unit had to be kept at half full grav on Duhr because of the power required."
"Half-grav suit your gracious supremacy?" Davo asked Ansra, mocking her with a bow.
"He won't last, half-grav or free-fall," she said, grimacing as she heard the cabin door click shut behind Kurla.
Ansra flipped off the harness, twisting in the chair for the most comfortable position from which to regard Davo unobstructedly.
"I don't know why you continue to defend a dying man, Davo. Don't argue; his mind has been affected. I can see it. Don't forget, I knew him rather well." Her smile suggested many intimacies. "And it's his mind that must be transferred." Suddenly her whole attitude changed subtly. "Had you never considered being more than just a supporting actor, Davo?"
Helva took a closer look at the man. She'd thought him a friend or assistant of Prane's, not another actor. He had none of the obvious professional mannerisms the other two displayed.
"You've an excellent reputation in the Guild as a fine classicist," Ansra was saying. "Why do you continue to let Prane dominate and dictate your life?"
Davo regarded her imperturbably for a moment before he smiled carelessly. "I happen to respect Prane Liston professionally and personally. . ."
Ansra made a rude noise. "You've fronted for him like an understudy on matinee day. Taken his lectures while he 'experimented' in null-grav movement! Ha! Covered for him so the rank and file would not know their hero's frailties!"
"My motives are not as suspect as yours, detouring two months away from your last engagement to 'visit' your old friend, Prane Liston? Ha for you."
Helva detected the flush of anger under the woman's cosmetized skin.
"My visit, Davo Fillanaser, was most opportune," she replied with a saccharine smile. "And according to our briefing, once one is transferred to the. . . how was it phrased, empty envelope?. . . to the envelope awaiting each of us on Beta Corvi, external appearance will not matter. Ability will. I always thought you showed poor judgment to opt the classics, Davo, for you have such a lean and hungry look that you must always be Iago or Cassius. You could be. . . Romeo. . . on Beta Corvi." Her smile was dazzling.
"Not, of course, while Prane Liston remains director and Romeo, huh?" Davo leaned toward her, his eyes sparkling, but his lean, dark face inscrutable. "You won't believe the truth, even when you hear it, will you, Ansra? And you just can't believe that Prane Liston is no longer besotted with Ansra Colmer."
"That is not at issue," she said, with lofty indifference.
Davo merely smiled. He leaned back in the couch and matched her mood. "You've got your own director lined up, huh? One who'll let Juliet dominate? Then, with a grateful but weak Romeo like me, you'll look twice as good without having to work half as hard as Prane makes you. Oh, come off it, Ansra," he advised, impatient with her machinations. "Prane always could drag the very best performances out of your lazy hide.
"But that's not important, not in this production. There's more at stake than your self-consequence. Or did you really listen to the briefing at all? Those Beta Corviki can regulate the half-life of any unstable isotope they choose. If Central Worlds gets such techniques, it'll revolutionize pile-drives and get us across the galactic seas. . ." He paused, gave a derisive laugh. "Why, if our petty prancing pleases them, you might play in the Horsehead Nebula next season, Ansra Colmer. Or," and his eyes narrowed speculatively, "should I say, Solara Ansra?"
"Then think carefully, Davo," she urged, her pose alert and tense, "of all that is involved. I don't care for altruism: it signs no contracts and pays no salaries. I wouldn't have considered this tour for a moment if it weren't for that Corviki transfer device."