"This is where we get off," she said aloud, and they left the lift and she turned to the right, leading him along a tigerstriped corridor where lights glowed only in the baseboards. The effect was tantalizing as well as stark. It gave a somewhat animal-like aura to the girl moving before him. He sniffed and detected faint narcotic fumes in the air. They were stronger near the ventilators.
--_I have seen your picture many times. I have read much about you. That is how I knew you. As a matter of fact, I have all your biographies--even the two CL ones_.
He laughed aloud and gave Shind the shorthand signal for "End transmission. Continue to receive," then, _Is she telling the truth, Shind?_ he inquired.
_Yes. She admires you considerably. She is quite excited and extremely nervous_.
_No trap, then?_
_No_.
She halted before a door, fumbled with her key for a time, unlocked it.
She pushed it open and instead of entering or stepping aside, moved to bar it, facing him. Her face twisted and untwisted and she looked as if she were about to cry.
"Do not laugh when you go in," she said. "Please. No matter what you see."
"I won't," he said.
Then she stepped aside.
He entered the room and looked about. His eyes fell first upon the whips, then moved to the picture above the bed. He lowered his luggage to the floor and continued to stare. He heard the door close. The room was a study in asceticism. Gray walls and gleaming fixtures. The one window was shuttered tight.
He began to understand.
_Yes_, said Shind.
_Prepare to transmit and receive_.
_Ready_.
--_Is this room monitored in any way?_ he inquired.
--_Not exactly. That would be illegal. There are ways that I can request assistance or activate monitors, though_.
--_Are any of them activated right now?_
--_No_.
--_Then no one will hear us if we speak_.
"No," she said aloud; and he turned to look at her where she stood with her back and palms pressed against the door, eyes wide, lips dry.
"Don't be afraid of me," he said. "You sleep with me every night, don't you?"
Feeling awkward when she did not reply, he removed his coat and looked around.
"Is there a place where I can hang this to dry out?"
She moved forward and seized the garment.
"I'll take it. I'll hang it in my shower."
She jerked it from his hands, passed quickly through a narrow door and closed it behind her. He heard its lock click. After a time he heard sounds of retching.
He took a step in that direction, about to rap and ask if she were all right.
_Do not_, said Shind. _Let her be_.
_All right. --Do you want to be let out?_
_No. I would only upset her further. I am quite corn fortable_.
After a time, he heard a flushing sound, and a little later the door opened and she emerged. He noted that her eyelashes were wet. He also noted the bright blue of her eyes within them.
"It will be dry before too long," she said, "Commander."
"Thank you. Please call me Malacar, Jackara. Or better yet, Rory."
He rounded the bed to study the picture more closely.
"That's a good likeness. Where's it from?"
She brightened, followed to stand beside him.
"It was a plate, from your biography by that man Gillian. I had it enlarged and tridized. It is the best picture I have of you."
"I never read the book," he said. "I am trying to remember where the picture was taken, but I can't."
"That was right before the Parameter Eight Maneuver," she said, "when you were preparing the Fourth Fleet to rendezvous with Conlil. It was taken about an hour prior to your departure, according to the book."
He turned and looked down at her, smiling.
"I believe you're correct," he said, and she smiled at this.
"Cigarette?" he offered.
"No, thank you."
He took one himself, lit it.
How the hell did I walk into this? he asked himself. A real patho case of hero worship--with me as its object. If I say the wrong thing, she'll probably go to pieces. What is the best tack to take with her? Perhaps if I let her think I am nervous, then ask for her confidence on something unimportant .
"Listen," he said, "you startled me downstairs because nobody knew I was coming to Deiba, and I did not think too many people remembered my face. I came to this place rather than one of the hotels because nobody here cares about faces or names. You surprised me, though. I wanted to keep my presence a secret, and I thought I'd been uncovered."
"But you're immune to the laws, aren't you?"
"I'm not here to break them. Not this time, anyhow. I came to obtain some information--quietly, confidentially."
He stared directly into her eyes.
"Can I trust you to keep my presence a secret?"
"Of course," she said. "What else would I do? I was born in the DYNAB. May I assist you with whatever you are doing?"
"Perhaps," he said, seating himself on the edge of her bed. "If the DYNAB means something to you, what are you doing here?"
She laughed as she moved to seat herself in a chair across from him.
"Tell me how to get back. Look at the only job I can have in this town. How long do you think it will take me to save the price of a ticket?"
"Are you indentured, or under any sort of contract?"
"No. Why?"
"I don't know much about the local laws. I was just considering whether I would have to get you out of here the hard way.
"Get me out of here? Back to the DYNAB?"
"Of course. That's what you want, isn't it?"
She turned away from him then and began to cry, silently. He did not move to interfere.
"Excuse me," she said, "I never-- I never expected anything like this to happen to me. Malacar to walk into my room and offer to take me away. It is something I have dreamed of ..."
"Then I take it your answer is 'yes'?"
"Thank you," she said. "Yes, yes it is! But there is something else ..."
He smiled.
"What? Perhaps a boy friend you want to take along? That can be arranged too."
She raised her head and her eyes flashed.
"No!" she said. "It is nothing like that! I would not have one of these men!"
"Sorry," he said.
She stared down at her sandals, her silvered toenails. He flicked his cigarette above a black metal ashtray on the table beside the bed.
When she spoke again, she spoke very slowly and did not look at him.
"I would like to do something for the DYNAB. I would like to help you with whatever you are about in Capeville."
He was silent for a time. Then, "How old are you, Jackara?" he asked.
"I am not certain. Around twenty-six, I think. At least, that is what I tell people. Perhaps twenty-eight. Maybe twenty-five. But just because I'm young--"
He raised a hand and silenced her.
"I am not trying to talk you out of anything. In fact, it is possible that you could be of some assistance to me. I asked your age for a reason. What do you know of _mwalakharan khurr_, which is generally called Deiban fever?"
She shifted her gaze to the ceiling.
"I know that it is not too common," she said. "I know that when it does hit you, there is a high fever and a darkening of the complexion. It is supposed to attack the central nervous system. After that, the breathing and the heartbeat are affected. And there is something about the liquids. The body does not exactly lose them, but cellular fluids go extracellular. That's right. And the cells do not reabsorb. That is why you get so thirsty but liquids do not help. You're a doctor, though. You know all that."
"What else do you know about the condition?"
"Well, there is no cure and it always kills you, if that is what you mean."
"Are you certain?" he asked. "Have you never heard of anyone living through it?"
She looked at him, puzzled.
"Nobody?" he said. "Nobody has ever lived through it?"
"Well, they said there was one man. But I was very young then, and it was right after the conflict. I do not remember very much."