The first person Van saw was Deborah. Her face showed pale even through the blue tint. He was starting toward her when a voice shouted, “Hey, here’s two more of the bastards.”
He whirled rapidly, and then he understood the silence in the large room.
They stood in the center of the marble floor, four Rees, smug grins on their faces. They were fully clothed, of course, wearing shirts, ties, jackets, flapping trousers, hats. The apparent leader of the group, the one who had spoken, looked younger than the rest. His blond hair tumbled recklessly over his forehead, and his eyes insolently roamed the room, studying the naked bosoms of the women.
Van walked over to Deborah and asked, “Crashers, or did you invite them?”
“My God, Van,” she said. “Please!”
“What’s all the talk over there, Chesty?” the blond boy called.
Van turned and looked at him, and the Ree’s friends formed behind him in a tight semi-circle.
“You talking to me, son?”
“Yeah, you with all the hair on your chest, and the shiny muscles. What’s with you and Big Bust there?”
Deborah glanced self-consciously at her breasts, feeling the lust in the blond youth’s eyes. Van felt embarrassed for her, and he started across the room.
“Oh, look,” the blond shouted, “a hero in the crowd.”
Brant walked right up to him, and he heard Walt padding across the floor behind him. The Ree was as tall as Van, with well-rounded muscles beneath the rough cloth of his jacket. His eyes were slate-grey, and he carried his mouth like an open-switch knife.
“Are you looking for trouble, son?” Van asked.
The Ree grinned and nudged one of his pals in the ribs. “Listen to shiny skin,” he said. “Yeah, mister, we’re looking for trouble.”
“You came to the right place,” Van said softly. He heard Alloway pull up alongside him, but he did not turn his head. The room was deathly silent.
“Hey, look at the blond hair and black eyebrows,” one of the Rees said, indicating Walt. “That takes it, boy.” He began laughing, and they all joined in. Van didn’t think it was very funny.
“You’d better go,” he said. “You’d better go damned fast.”
The blond boy thought that was hilarious. “Why?” he asked. “You gonna show me a movie or something?”
“Oh,” Van said, “I dig now.”
The Ree laughed again, sure of himself now. “Listen to the tough Vike, boys. He gets all his fights from the stereos and Sensos; that’s the way he enjoys his fights.” He turned a sneer on Van. “You’re scarin’ me to death, mister. Honest.”
“Grooved,” Van said. “You figure because we get our action vicariously, we don’t know how to get it any other way. That right?”
“Yeah,” the Ree said quickly. He turned to one of the boys then and said, “Hey, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna grab one of these nude babes and show her what a real...”
That was when Van’s fist collided with his mouth.
He felt the lip split, and then the sharp edge of the Ree’s teeth knifed into the skin on Van’s knuckles. A blossom of blood sprouted on the boy’s mouth, and he brought his hand up to his lips in surprise and sudden terror. Brant slammed his other fist into the open hand; the Ree backed up a few paces, and Van jumped after him. He heard the boy’s pals yell something and grab for him; then Walt Alloway stepped into the picture and started throwing his weight around a little.
Van gave the Ree a pop in the eye that sent him staggering back to land on his seat. He was ready to stand up again when Van lashed out with his boot and caught him on the point of his chin. After that, he wasn’t ready to do anything. Brant turned quickly, about to take on another one, when he saw Rog Moore run across the room and tear one of the Rees from Walt’s back. Van threw himself headlong at the closest Ree and began throwing fists at his head. He wasn’t used to this because it had been a long time since he’d had any practice, arid he realized he was probably very bad at it. But he was filled with a hatred big enough to blow the roof off the building, and he poured all that hatred into his fists and his feet. He kept hitting until the breath was raging in his lungs. And then he stopped because the opposing flesh had already crumpled. He stood back then and looked around him at Bruce and Rog, and then at the inert Rees on the floor.
“Let’s get them out of here,” he said hoarsely.
They dragged the Rees to the front door and threw them into the lift, setting the tabs for the first level. The lift dropped out of sight with its cargo, and they went back into the room.
Deborah rushed over to Van and said, “You were wonderful, darl.”
“Those rotten bastards,” he said. Illidge simply wasn’t strong enough, so he unconsciously reverted to the Ree terminology. “Those filthy...”
“If they come back,” Walt said, “they’re dead. So help me, they’re dead, Van. Dead.” His hands were trembling as he spoke, and there was a smear of blood stretching from his temple to his jaw. A murmur of conversation sprang up around the room now, and someone put on a tape in an effort to relieve the strained atmosphere.
“Can we wash up, Deb?” Van asked.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Come with me.”
They followed her, and she dropped Rog and Walt off at the hall bathroom, and then led Brant to the private bathroom in her own bedroom. She sat on the bed while he washed, and talked to him through the open bathroom door. Van let water in the sink and then plunged his hands into it, watching it turn red with blood.
“This makes me wonder,” Deborah said.
“About what?”
“About whether I’m doing... about whether what I’ve been thinking of doing is right or not.”
“I’m lost, Deb.” Van splashed water onto his face, feeling it sting the cuts there.
“I think I... want to have a baby, Van.”
“What!” He jerked upright and looked at her, his face and hands dripping water onto the floor.
“Yes. I think I want to very much.”
“Why?”
“Well... I’m just tired of... of Sensos and... you know, all of it. I want something new.”
“Who’s the lucky man?” Van asked sarcastically, dipping into the water again.
“Van, don’t make me retch. It won’t be that way at all.”
“No?”
“No.” She smiled playfully. “There are only three men I’d even consider that with anyway. And then only if I went Ree.”
“Who?” Van asked.
“Jamie Grew. Know him?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think you would. I knew him when I was a girl.”
“Who else?”
“Rog Moore.”
“Oh.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. But I’ll bet he’s the illidge who talked you into this.”
“Well, in a way.”
“Who’s the third man?”
“You.”
Van snorted and rinsed off his face. “Well, honey, you’re barking up the wrong three.”
“I’m only joking; I’d go to the clinic, of course.”
“Mmm?”
“Yes. In fact, I’m thinking of enrolling in the next Inseminar.”
Van snapped on the ultra-vi and stepped into the field, rubbing his hands as the rays dried him. “That’s the next step above a Ree,” he said. “Next thing you know, you’ll be mating in an alley.”
“Van, for godsakes! You say the damndest things.”
“Well, it’s the truth.” He shrugged. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes. I haven’t told anyone yet, not even Rog. I wanted to hear what you thought of it.”
“Well, now you know.”
“And I’m going to do it anyway.”
“Go right ahead. Your womb, your tomb.” He stepped out of the field and snapped off the ray. He looked down at his torn breeches. “I don’t suppose you’ve an extra pair in the house.”