*
“. . . I am telling you all this because I desperately want someone to know the truth of what I have done. And because I trust you more than I trust anyone on this godforsaken moon—or maybe anywhere else, for that matter. And because . . . I’m so sorry that I have to leave this way. Julie . . . . If only I had time to know you better, I think I might just . . .” What? Fall in love?
He hesitated, trying to decide how to finish. He didn’t want to sound like an idiot, after all. Was it just infatuation, or need, or was what he felt the beginnings of the real thing? Anyway, he was leaving, perhaps forever, so what difference did it make if he made a fool of himself? A stray thought occurred to him and he wondered, if Charlie could still communicate with the translator, whether it might be possible to arrange somehow for Julie to be the one whom the translator allowed to find it. It would be nice if he could leave her that much as a parting gift, at least.
Finally he typed: “. . . well, I think a lot of things, and there’s no time now to tell you about it all. Too little time, too little. Please trust me, even if you’re shocked—even if you’re angry. You can tell anyone you want, after I’m gone. Please be well, Julie. And do go and find that alien device! It’s out there! Love, John.”
He felt that it was a pretty ineffectual close, but he couldn’t think how to say it better. He saved the letter to Julie’s private files and tagged it to be sent to her on the day after tomorrow. He was tempted to let her see it sooner—it tortured him to think of keeping the secret from her even that long—but he didn’t dare. Julie might wonder, for a day, just what sort of monster she had slept with, but she would find out soon enough. He hoped his explanation would salvage her opinion of him.
He gazed down at her and ached to climb back into the bunk, to wake her, to make love to her again. Reluctantly, instead, he answered the powerful urge that was building somewhere deep inside him, an urge that he had no doubt was a signal from the quarx. With a sigh, he picked up his clothes and began to dress. Julie stirred in her sleep and mumbled something inaudible to him. He bent and whispered, “I have to go now. I have urgent things to do.” He kissed her on the forehead, and her eyelids fluttered for a moment. “I think you’re wonderful,” he whispered, so softly he could scarcely hear his own voice. And before his resolve could vanish altogether, he straightened and hurried from her room.
On his way to the comm booth off the lounge, he spoke to the quarx with mounting anxiety. /All right. Now please tell me—how do you propose to steal this ship?/
Charlie had given no indication of his conscious presence for some time now, and several seconds passed before he responded to Bandicut’s question. When he did speak, it was in a distant whisper, as though he had buried himself so completely that he had to call up out of a great depth.
/// I am pleased by your decision.
We must use the datanet,
and hope that it is restored enough
to do what we must do. ///
Bandicut nodded. That much he had assumed already.
/// First we must
change your job assignment
to Triton Orbital Station.
Then we must look carefully into the
scheduling of ships . . . ///
/What, are we going to get ourselves a reserved seat?/ Bandicut asked doubtfully, adjusting the headset on his temples.
/// Something like that, ///
Charlie murmured, and as he spun out the connection to the gleaming points of energy in the neurolink, he seemed to Bandicut to be humming with anticipation.
Chapter 25
Final Preparations
THE MORNING CAME too soon, and not soon enough. Bandicut woke up restless and nervous, at once wishing he had spent the night with Julie, and wanting to get on with Charlie’s scheme before he lost his nerve altogether.
/// You still have the stones? ///
Charlie asked, as Bandicut dressed.
He felt in his pants pockets and drew out the three tiny stones: a glinting ruby, a tiny coruscating diamond, a fleck of coal. /Okay?/
/// Okay. ///
Bandicut replaced the stones in his pocket, and suddenly felt lightheaded as he realized: I am leaving Triton today. I am going to attempt to steal a spaceship. /I suppose I should pack a bag./
/// Okay.
But travel light. ///
He scratched behind his ear. /What time’s the shuttle leave?/
/// Oh-eight-hundred.
That doesn’t give us much time. ///
Bandicut grabbed his travel duffel and stuffed it with clothes. He hesitated, thinking of Julie, and felt a large lump forming in his throat. He felt an urgent nudge from Charlie—quickly tossed in some books, holos, and other personals, without sorting. He paused in midmotion, remembering last night. He wished that there were some way . . . but no. /Charlie,/ he murmured almost plaintively, /is there any chance we’ll . . . make it back here?/ He already knew the answer.
The quarx seemed to draw a deep breath, and seemed very far away as it answered,
/// The chances are . . . slight, John.
I wish I could say otherwise.
I will miss the translator, too, you know.
But it is the sacrifice we must— ///
/Okay, okay,/ Bandicut muttered in annoyance. /You don’t have to go on and on about it, for Chrissake./ He zipped his bag and blinked a few times, trying to clear his eyes. He turned away from his bunk.
“Hey, Bandie, what is this?” Krackey demanded, walking into the room, waving his hands in dismay. He pointed to the duffel bag. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
“I, ah . . . actually, yes,” Bandicut stammered. He thought frantically. He’d hoped he wouldn’t meet anyone else he knew on his way out. “I’m glad I . . . didn’t miss you, Krackey. I just got new orders. They’re shipping me right off for some orbital work—Lord knows why.” He tried to grin, and felt the effort failing.
“C’mon, Bandie. I saw the orders on the system board this morning, too,” Krackey said. “Obviously it’s a screwup. Did you talk to anyone in person?”
“No, but—”
“Well, check it out before you go all the way up, man!”
“Well, I can’t just—” Bandicut’s breath caught. “I mean, it’s—” He felt his face reddening. /HELP!/
/// I don’t know . . . ///
Krackey scrutinized his face, as though wondering at Bandicut’s mental competency. “Let me check into it, Bandie. Hell, here you are just getting back into the groove. I’ll bet I can straighten this out in no time. I mean, what would Cole Jackson do without you?”
Groaning silently, Bandicut turned away.
“Bandie, come on! Let me fix it for you! The datanet’s still screwed up, that’s all. If you take the shuttle upstairs, you’re just going to have to come right back down.”
“Krackey,” he said, mustering the only excuse he could think of, “I’m sure you’re right. I’ll probably be back here tomorrow, and we’ll all be laughing about it.” He gestured casually. “So, I’m going to have a holiday in orbit, for a day! One mokin’ day! Don’t you ever want a change of scenery?”
Krackey’s face changed from a look of bewilderment to one of suspicion. Suddenly he grinned wolfishly. “Why, Bandie, you old son of a gun—you didn’t rig this to give yourself a day off in orbit, did you?”
“For God’s sake! No, I didn’t rig the thing!” Bandicut protested. “I wouldn’t know how, even if I wanted to.”
Krackey grunted and eyed him doubtfully. “Well, I believe you. But if you were to try something like that, lemme just tell you, you’d get yourself in some pretty deep shit.”
Bandicut shrugged, wanting desperately to leave the room before he erupted with any more lies.
“Oh well, enjoy yourself.” Krackey clapped him on the shoulder and chortled.
“Yeah. Say, look—Krackey.” Bandicut swallowed, realizing that he wa
s about to say good-bye to Krackey for the last time. He started to stretch out his hand, but quelled the impulse. “Listen, if anything—well, what I mean is—you take care, okay?”
Krackey peered at him oddly. “Yeah, I’ll take care. You just get back down here soon.”
Nodding, Bandicut picked up his duffel and hurried from the room. /Charlie, I hope I don’t run into anyone else. I don’t think I can stand it./
/// Let’s just hope you don’t run into Julie, ///
the quarx said, naming the one person Bandicut desperately hoped he would run into.
/// I sense your feelings.
I don’t think it would be good for you to see her. ///
/Why not?/ he demanded.
/// I’m not sure you could handle it.
We might never make it off Triton. ///
/Give me some credit, will you?/ Bandicut retorted, knowing full well that the quarx was right. And yet, as he strode down the corridor, he realized that he intended to see Julie one more time anyway, risk or no risk.
/// John, no—it wouldn’t be wise! ///
/Tough,/ Bandicut said, glancing both ways in the empty corridor before heading toward the lower-level dorm section. He paused at the bulkhead door where Julie had said good-night to him with a discreet kiss, just the day before yesterday (or had it been years ago, which was what it felt like?). He pushed through the door, stopped at Julie’s room, hesitated, and rapped three times. He heard the sound of someone stumbling on the other side of the privacy-curtain.
“Who is it?” said a sleepy-sounding voice.
“It’s Band—John,” he stammered.
“Bad John?” The voice sounded slightly more awake.
“It’s John. Can I see you?” He was trembling, afraid that someone might come walking along and see him in the corridor, afraid that he had made a terrible mistake coming back here, afraid that he wouldn’t have the courage to leave.
The curtain opened, and Julie stood before him in a thin bathrobe, her hair tousled, her eyes red with sleep. “You left,” she said, squinting. “I hate it when men do that.”
He swallowed and nodded. “May I . . . come in?”
He couldn’t read her expression as she stepped aside and closed the door behind him. Then he realized that she was staring at the duffel bag in his hand. “Are you going somewhere?” she asked, puzzled. He nodded silently, unable to trust his voice. “Ah,” she said and peered at him with those blazing eyes. He felt pinned, like a butterfly to a mount. “You were here last night, weren’t you?” she asked suspiciously. He nodded again. “I wasn’t imagining that, in some crazy dream?” He shook his head, trying to laugh to break the tension, but he couldn’t; he was afraid of what might come out instead. His face felt frozen like a block of ice, unable to convey any expression.
She nodded. “And it was . . . good. Right?” Her eyes and the corner of her mouth were twitching, as though trying to decide what it was she was feeling.
He glanced longingly at her bunk, wishing he could climb back into it with her. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “It was . . . good. Real good. But I’ve . . . just been ordered up to Triton Orbital. Today. I might be gone a while. I . . . oh moke, I wish I . . .”
“Didn’t have to go?” she asked.
He nodded numbly. She was still trying to decide whether to laugh or to be sad or angry, he thought. He didn’t know how to help her.
Julie nodded to herself. “That’s the usual line, isn’t it? Usually, though, I don’t drive men to pack their bags and leave the fucking planet. What about the survey run today? Who’d they give it to?”
“I don’t know. And it’s not a planet, anyway, it’s a moon,” he said, cracking a smile.
“Oh, excuse me—”
“And Julie—it’s not a line, and I don’t usually . . . do this, either. I’m sorry about the survey run. But I’m more sorry about—well—you know.” He felt his face burning.
“No, I don’t know.” She peered at his blushing face and said in a hurt voice, “What aren’t you saying?”
“I’m sorry about us,” he croaked.
“Us,” she echoed. She nodded, as though completing a mental readjustment. “Well, it’s not as if we’ve known each other all that long, when you get right down to it. So we shouldn’t have any expectations—right?”
“No, but I—I really—” As he hesitated, she tugged her robe more snugly around her, which only made him want her all the more. “I really thought we might—I mean, I’d hoped we—”
“Yeah,” she murmured, shrugging. “Me too.”
/// John! ///
His voice caught. He sighed and changed the subject. “Well, look, I—I really hope you—find something out there. On the plain, I mean. I hope it makes you famous. But I have to get . . . going, and . . .” He swallowed hard, then dropped his bag and opened his arms, and after a heartbeat’s hesitation, she moved reluctantly into his embrace. She suddenly surrendered to whatever she was holding back and hugged herself to his chest. They were both trembling, and he squeezed her, as if that would somehow stop it.
“Who are you leaving me for, really?” she whispered finally, looking up into his eyes.
The lump in his throat grew larger. “An alien,” he whispered back.
She nodded, and hugged him again. “Figures. Why do men always do this to me?” He felt himself growing hard against her, and knew that she felt it, too.
“What, leave you for aliens?” he croaked.
“Yeah.”
Clearing his throat, he muttered, “I, uh—don’t know how long I’ll be there, I was just told to pack a bag. I don’t even know—” he hesitated “—just exactly what I’m going to be doing there.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie.
“How like a man,” she said, with a hoarse laugh. “Couldn’t you have appealed the assignment? Told them you had this hot new love affair?”
“I wish,” he said honestly. “But look—I’ll—”
“Write?”
He chuckled, trying to break the spell of gloom. “Yeah, I’ll write. Guaranteed. I’ll send you word when I know—” he swallowed “—when I’ll be back.”
“Okay, sure.” She squinted, studying him. “You really had no idea, before this? You weren’t just . . . holding off telling me? So you could have a little fling?”
His face burned again as he shook his head. “I . . . knew there was a chance I’d be reassigned. But I didn’t know when, and it . . . wasn’t posted until today.”
She drew back from him, perhaps sensing the lie. “Does this have anything to do with our find?” she asked suspiciously.
He shook his head vigorously. “No,” he whispered. Not with your finding it, anyway.
/// John, damn it—we have to go!
The shuttle! ///
He didn’t answer the quarx. He didn’t know what to say to Julie. He only knew that he had blown it totally now, and he wanted somehow to make amends with her before he left. “Julie, it’s really true—”
“I believe you,” she sighed. “I guess maybe you should get going, huh?”
“I—”
“You’re just making it harder, you know. I mean, it’s not as if you’re going away forever, right?”
“R-right. Good . . . bye, Julie.” He bent to pick up his bag, then dropped it and seized her in another hug before she could back away again. She was shaking as he held her. He felt her body, awkward against him, and her hair in his face. “I . . . really meant it . . . when I said I wished I didn’t have to go,” he said thickly. “I will send word.”
“Okay,” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek. She pulled her hand away and smiled. “Bye,” she murmured.
“Bye.” He picked up his bag and fled from her room.