legend?_
_Good luck to you, Margot. I hope you're willing to give up your career to carry out your dying father's wish. If you do, and if you succeed, more power will be yours than a human being has ever before had in the galaxy. I won't presume to tell you how to use it._
_Oh, yes. One more thing. Since Earth and Alpha Centauri are on a direct line from Irwadi, Centauri will do quite well as your outbound destination if for some reason you can't make Earth. Again, good luck, my child. With all my love, Dad._
Ramsey frowned at the letter. He did not know what to make of it. As faras he knew, there was no such thing as a proto-man myth in wide currencyaround the galaxy. He had never heard of proto-man. Unless, he thoughtsuddenly, the dying man could have simply meant all the myths of humancreation, hypothecating a first man who, somehow, had developedindependently of the beasts of the field although he seemed to fit theirevolutionary pattern....
But what the devil would hyper-space have to do with such a myth?Proto-man, whatever proto-man was, couldn't have lived in hyper-space.Not in that bleak, ugly, faceless infinity....
Unless, Ramsey thought, more perplexed than ever, it was the very bleak,ugly, faceless infinity which made proto-man leave.
"Breakfast!" the Vegan girl called. Ramsey joined her in the kitchen,and they ate without talking. When they were drinking their coffee, anEarth-style beverage which the Vegan girl admitted liking, the apartmentdoor irised and Margot Dennison came in.
Ramsey, who had replaced the letter where he'd found it, said: "Justwhat the devil did you think you were doing, locking us in?"
"For your own protection, silly," Margot told him smoothly. "I alwayslock my door when I go out, so I locked it today. Naturally, we won'thave a chance to apply for a new lock. Besides, why arouse suspicion?"
"Where'd you go?"
"I don't see where that's any of your business."
"Believe it or not," Ramsey said caustically, "I've seen a thousandcredits before. I've turned down a thousand credits before, in jobs Ididn't like. As for being stranded here on Irwadi, it's all the same tome whether I'm on Irwadi or elsewhere."
"What does all that mean, Captain Ramsey?"
"It means keep us informed. It means don't get uppity."
Margot laughed and dropped a vidcast tape on the table in front ofRamsey. He read it and did not look up. There was a description ofhimself, a description of the Vegan girl, and a wanted bulletin issuedon them. For assaulting the Chief of Irwadi Security, the bulletin said.For assaulting a drunken fool, Ramsey thought.
"Well?" Margot asked. This morning she wore a man-tailored jumper which,Ramsey observed, clashed with the Sirian-archaic furniture. She lookedcool and completely poised and no less beautiful, if less provocativelydressed, than last night.
Ramsey returned question for question. "What about the ship?"
"In a Spacer Graveyard, of course. There isn't a landing field on theplanet we could go to."
"You mean we'll take off from a Graveyard? From a junk-heap of batteredold derelict ships?"
"Of course. It has some advantages, believe it or not. We'll work on theship nights. It needs plenty of work, let me tell you. But then theGraveyard is a kind of parts department, isn't it?"
Ramsey couldn't argue with that.
They spent the next three days sleeping and slowly going stir-crazy.They slipped out each night, though, and walked the two miles to theSpacer Graveyard down near the river. It was on the other side of theriver, which meant they had to boat across. Risky, but there was no helpfor it. Each night they worked on the ship, which Ramsey found to be afifty-year old Canopusian freighter in even worse condition than Margothad indicated. The night was usually divided into three sections. First,reviewing the work which had been done and planning the evening'sactivities. Then, looking for the parts they would need in the jungle ofinterstellar wrecks all about them. Finally, going to work with theparts they had found and with the tools which Ramsey had discovered onthe old Canopusian freighter the first night.
* * * * *
As they made their way back across the river the first night, Ramseypaddling slowly, quietly, Margot said:
"Ramsey, I--I think we're being watched."
"I haven't seen or heard a thing. You, Vardin?" Vardin was the Vegangirl's name.
Vardin shook her head.
Ramsey was anxious all at once, though. Things had gone too smoothly.They had not been interfered with at all. Personally, things hadn't gonesmoothly with Ramsey, but that was another story. He found himselfliking Margot Dennison too much. He found himself trying to hide itbecause he knew she could read minds. Just how do you hide your thoughtsfrom a mind reader? Ramsey didn't know, but whenever his thoughtsdrifted in that direction he tried thinking of something else--anythingelse, except the proto-man letter.
"Yes, that's just what I was thinking," Margot said in the boat. "I canread minds, so I'd know best if we were being watched. To get a clearreading I have to aim my thoughts specifically, but I can pick upfree-floating thoughts as a kind of emotional tone rather than words.Does that make sense?"
"If you say so. What else did you read in my mind?"
Margot smiled at him mysteriously and said nothing.
Ramsey felt thoughts of proto-man nibbling at his consciousness. Hetried to fight them down purely rationally, and knew he wouldn'tsucceed. He grabbed Margot and pulled her close to him, seeking herlips with his, letting his thoughts wander into a fantasy of desire.
Margot slapped his face and sat stiffly in her cloak while he paddled tothe other side of the river. Vardin sat like a statue. Ramsey had cometo a conclusion: he did not like letting Margot know how he felt abouther, but it was mostly on a straight physical level and he preferred herdiscovering it to her learning that he'd read the proto-man letter fromher father. In his thoughts, though, he never designated it as theproto-man letter from her father. He designated it as X.
When they reached the bank, Margot said: "I'm sorry for slapping you."
"I'm sorry for making a pass."
"Ramsey, tell me, what is X?"
Ramsey laughed harshly and said nothing. That gave Margot something tothink about. Maybe it would keep her thoughts out of his mind, keep herfrom reading....
X marks the spot, thought Ramsey. XXX marks the spot-spot-spot. X is aspot in a pot or a lot of rot....
"Oh, stop it!" Margot cried irritably. "You're thinking nonsense."
"Then get the heck out of my mind," Ramsey told her.
Vardin walked on without speaking. If she had any inkling of what theywere talking about, she never mentioned it.
Margot said: "I still get the impression."
"What impression?"
"That we're being followed. That we're being watched. Every step of theway."
Wind and cold and darkness. The hairs on the back of Ramsey's neckprickled. They walked on, bent against the wind.
* * * * *
Security Officer Second Class Ramar Chind reported to his Chief in theHall of Retribution the following morning. Chind, a career man with theIrwadi Security Forces, did not like his new boss. Garr Symm was nocareer man. He knew nothing of police procedure. It was evenrumored--probably based upon solid fact--that Garr Symm liked his brandyexcessively and often found himself under its influence. Worst ofall--after all, a man could understand a desire for drink, even if,sometimes, it interfered with work--worst of all, Garr Symm was ascientist, a dome-top in the Irwadi vernacular. And hard-headed RamarChind lost no love on dome-tops.
He saluted crisply and said: "You wanted to see me, sir?"
* * * * *
Garr Symm leaned forward over his desk, making a tent of his scaly greenfingers and peering over it. He said three words. He said: "TheEarthgirl Dennison."
"The Spacer Graveyard," Ramar Chind said promptly. That was an easy one.His agents had been following the Dennison girl, at Garr Symm's or
ders.Ramar Chind did not know why.
"And?" Garr Symm asked.
"The Earthman Ramsey, the Vegan Vardin, both are with her. We can closein and arrest the lot, sir, any time you wish."
"Fool," Garr Symm said softly, without malice. "That is the last thing Iwant. Don't you understand that? No, I guess you don't."
"Yes, sir."
"Their ship?"
"Every morning after they leave we go over it. Still two or three nightsaway from completion, sir. Also--" Ramar Chind smiled.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Two or three nights away from completion, except for one thing. They'llneed a fuel supply. Two U-235