Gomez looked somewhere between frightened and angry.
“What if something goes wrong?” he asked, in a near whisper. “What if the sub malfunctions or sinks?”
“But it hasn’t,” Raven countered, tugging at his arm. “It’s all gone fine so far, and you’re the man everyone wants to see and congratulate.”
“Maybe. But—”
“Come on, Tómas! Put on a smile!”
He tried to smile. Raven thought it looked ghastly. But they were approaching the doors of the lounge, and the music from inside blared loud enough to make her wince. Raven realized she hadn’t danced since she’d arrived at Haven, months ago. I deserve a little fun, she told herself.
The doors slid open automatically and the noise was enough to knock a person flat. Raven flinched momentarily, then, without even looking at Gomez, she stepped into the raucous, swirling party. Gomez hesitated at the doorway, as if frightened to enter the lounge.
“There he is!” someone shouted.
The music stopped abruptly, and some thirty or more men and women converged on them.
They pushed past Raven and surrounded Gomez, the men shouting congratulations and pounding his back, the women staring at him. Raven stepped away, thinking, This is Tómas’s party. His moment in the spotlight. His time to shine. I hope he enjoys it.
Gomez seemed bewildered at first, but within a few moments he was grinning at the men and women clustered about him. One of the women, lithe and leggy, several centimeters taller than Gomez himself, folded herself into his arms and—as the music resumed its thumping beat—began twirling with him across the floor. Raven saw that the woman was dancing, with Gomez shuffling along clumsily. But he was smiling.
The congratulatory group quickly broke into couples that swirled across the dance floor.
“May I have this dance?”
Raven turned. There was Evan Waxman, tall, elegantly dressed in a form-fitting jacket of royal blue, smiling at her. She placed her hand in his and let him lead her out onto the dance floor.
Over the blare of the music Waxman fairly shouted into Raven’s ear, “Looks like your lad is enjoying himself.”
Raven nodded. “I think this might be the first time he’s ever been the center of attention.”
“Ah,” said Waxman, “everyone should be the center of attention every now and then.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Waxman chuckled. “It’s a good thing that every resident of Haven has been medically examined and cleared of sexual diseases.”
Raven blinked with surprise, then muttered, “I suppose so.”
“That includes me, of course.”
She made herself smile up at him. “Me too,” said Raven.
THE MORNING AFTER
Raven awoke from a deep, languorous sleep. Evan Waxman lay beside her, snoring gently, a satisfied smile on his lips.
Tómas! Raven thought, her eyes snapping wide open. She remembered seeing him dancing happily with one woman after another. Then she’d lost track of him.
I’ve got to get back to my place and track him down. Softly, slowly, she slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Evan had been a surprisingly gentle lover, she recalled. He knew how to help a woman enjoy sexual intercourse.
By the time she left the bathroom, fully dressed once again, Waxman was sitting up in the bed with the sheet covering his groin and legs.
“Leaving?” he asked, with a thin smile.
“I’ve got to locate Tómas,” Raven said. “He’s—”
“He’s in good hands,” said Waxman. “He trundled out of the lounge last night with a woman on each arm.”
Despite herself, Raven broke into laughter.
Still sitting on the bed, Waxman said, “Thank you.”
Dipping her chin slightly, she replied, “Thank you.”
“I wish you’d come and work with me, Raven. I need you.”
“In bed?”
He grinned ruefully. “Yes, of course.” Before Raven could reply, Waxman added, “But more than that. Much more. I need an assistant, Raven. An assistant with a first-class mind.”
“Me?” Raven felt truly surprised.
“You,” Waxman answered.
“I’m just a refugee, Evan. I don’t have any education, no experience—”
“You learn quickly. Gomez would be lost without you.”
“Yes, I suppose he would.”
“I need you, too. I truly do.”
Feeling torn, Raven said, “But Tómas…”
“He’s got nothing to do now that his sub is in the ocean. He doesn’t need you now.”
“But once his submersible comes up again, he’ll have his hands full of data to interpret.”
“I’ve got this entire fucking habitat to look after!” Waxman snapped, his voice rising. “Umber can sit up there on his private Cloud Nine, but I’ve got to make certain this habitat functions properly.”
“I know.”
“Then help me! I need your help.”
Raven studied his face. He seemed sincere enough, but she thought she knew what he was really saying.
“Evan, I can spend my nights with you.”
“And I can spend my nights with any one of a hundred women living in this habitat. It’s you that I want—and not just in bed. I want you to help me run this funny farm. I need you!”
Raven went over and sat on the edge of the bed. “I wish that was true.”
“It is!” Raising his right hand, he swore, “So help me God!”
“But I don’t know anything about running a habitat. I don’t have any education.”
Waxman’s earnest expression eased into a smile. “I can teach you. Me, and the computers. Then there’s hypno-learning. You can get an education while you sleep!”
“While I sleep?”
He nodded.
“But what about Tómas?”
“I’ll get one of my staff people to help him. As you said, there’s nothing for him to do until his sub pops up from the ocean.”
“True,” Raven said uncertainly.
“By then he’ll have forgotten about you,” Waxman said firmly.
Raven shook her head. “I don’t know.…”
Waxman let a small sigh escape his lips. Then he said, “All right, let’s try it this way: You take on the position of my assistant while Gomez’s submersible is in the ocean, out of contact. When his sub shows up again we can re-evaluate where we stand. Fair enough?”
For long moments Raven sat on the edge of the bed, her mind spinning. Waxman stared at her, studying her, waiting for her decision.
“All right,” she said at last, more than a little uncertainly. “Let’s try it that way.”
Waxman broke into a wide grin. He put out his hand toward her. “Agreed!”
Raven let her hand be engulfed by his. “Agreed,” she said, in a near whisper.
She expected him to pull her next to him for another bout of lovemaking. Instead he released her hand and, smiling, told her, “Now go and find Gomez and break the news to him.”
Surprised, Raven got up from the bed and headed for the door.
Waxman called after her, “I’ll expect you at my office tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred hours.”
She turned her head back toward him and nodded. “Oh-nine-hundred.”
By the time Raven got to the apartment’s front door and stepped into the passageway outside, she felt puzzled, confused. He really wants me to become his assistant? He isn’t just trying to screw me?
Then she smiled and started striding along the passageway, toward her own quarters, telling herself, But that doesn’t mean I can’t screw him.