CHAPTER TWELVE
In the heavy silence that followed, the two men stared at one another.Lors regarded his friend with matter-of-fact calmness, but Narvi's mouthwas open in astonishment. The situation wasn't covered in the manual.
"Love," Narvi choked finally. "With an alien? You must be joking."
"I'm serious."
"That blow on the head must have been solid as a rock."
Thesa just stared, without speaking.
"Beth is a wonderful woman and I'm in love with her. If the blow on thehead did that ... well then, I'm glad the ship cracked up."
"But, Lors! She's an alien! It's like a farmer, falling in love with hisstock! It's crazy! You couldn't live on this planet the rest of yourlife, and she couldn't live with you!"
Lors shrugged.
"What about Jela," Narvi demanded swiftly.
He didn't answer him. Memories of the blond woman with the trim ankles,the slim waist and the large breasts floated back to him; memories ofthe many evenings they'd shared walking along the sand under the stars.He sat there fingering the thoughts as they rolled past, without feelinganything. He was aware, finally, that Narvi was speaking to him.
"... know how you feel, Lors, but forget it. You could never workanything out. Go on back to Jela and forget about this alien. It doesn'tmatter how wonderful she is; probably nothing short of killing herhusband would gain her for you."
Lors smiled thinly. "We can do that, too." He paused and lookedthoughtful for a moment "What did Imry do with Danson?"
"Nothing. He lives better than most spacers. Since we are minus prisonson starships, Imry installed him in your quarters, under guard, ofcourse. Commander Zark hasn't been able to figure out what to do withhim, yet. That's what he wants to talk to you about."
"Have you a scout ship here?" Lors asked.
"Certainly. We use them to make reports. The Terrans would pick up theradio waves otherwise."
"How about a uniform?"
"You can borrow one of Thesa's. You'd never get into one of mine."
"Fine. As soon as I'm properly attired, we'll go see Zark." Grinning atNarvi, Lors followed Thesa into the bedroom for the uniform.
* * * * *
Later, dressed in the uniform of a Firstspacer, Lors checked himself inthe mirror of the bedroom making certain that he was properly dressed.Trousers bloused neatly into the black, half boots, the yellow stripesperfectly aligned, the cuffs of the tunic fastened at his wrists andthroat, the emblems of the 8th. Terran Command on the collar, the patchof rank on his left shoulder sleeve. Yes, he was all set. Precise.
He grinned at Thesa. "Feels good," he said.
The sandy haired spacer handed him the black leather belt containing theauto-pistol and the cartridge belt. He buckled it on, feeling thefamiliar weight drag at his right hip.
"Okay?" Thesa asked.
Lors nodded. "Thanks for the loan," he said and went out to where Narvi,already dressed, awaited him.
"How's your head?" Narvi asked.
"Fine."
"Let's go, then."
They walked, wordlessly, out to the barn. The blond snapped on a smalllight near the scout ship and Lors went up close to examine it.
"Climb in," Narvi invited. "I have to scan the area and make sure no onewill see the take-off."
Lors leaped to the cockpit and opened the plastic-dome; he droppedlithely into the seat, his feet moving automatically to the rudderpedals, his hands impatiently fingering the controls. So much was comingback. So many remembrances with each second of time. He was _not_Nicholas Howard Danson, and he had never been! He was Firstspacer Lorsof the 8th. Terran Command, and he felt his heart thrill to theknowledge of who he was and where he was. It was slow, this strangeprocess of regaining his mind, but it was coming along. He would soon bewhole again, no longer some freak caught in the vortex between twoworlds.
"Ready?" Narvi asked, slipping into the seat beside him and pulling thecockpit shield into place.
"Ready. Where's the starship?"
"Bearing 204.5, off-planet. We'll be there in no time."
The barn door swung open as Narvi started the scout ship and they movedout into the night, hovering a foot off the barn floor until they wereoutside.
Narvi conned the ship, working the verti-control expertly and thelittle craft whistled upward at a gentle speed. The radar screen beforethem disclosed no aircraft in the area. Narvi grinned at Lors and shovedthe speed control forward, working the elevators with his other hand andthe scout ship streaked into the night sky.
Home.
Lors, watching the screen, saw the oblong shape of the mother ship blurpinto view and called out its position to his friend. At once, Narvialtered the course, whipping the scout ship onto a collision bearing.When they were close enough, they used their signal and heard itanswered.
The ship slipped in easily as the port opened in the starship's side.Narvi guided the craft in with tender hands and settled it gently on thefloor. A positioner hooked a line to the ship and pulled it quickly intothe repair bins. A light winked in the wall. The area was againpressurized.
They climbed out and dropped to the floor as a crew of repair men wentto work on the ship. Narvi slapped Lors on the arm.
"I'm going below for a drink. Join Me?"
Lors shook his head. "No, thanks. I might be down a bit later, but rightnow I'd best talk to the Commander."
"Right. Just don't tell him that you're thinking of jilting his onlydaughter for an alien, or he'll turn four different shades of purple."
Lors grinned and watched the big blond stride away to the elevator thatwould take him down to the bar on the first level. Then he walked off inthe opposite direction, heading toward the forward end of the shipwhere he would find his "future" father-in-law, Commander Zark. Spacers,in the gleaming halls, saluted him in the traditional manner - a handclasped to the hip that held their holstered auto-pistol - and it was agood feeling. He had almost forgotten.
The Commander's guards stopped him outside the door, but when heexplained who he was and what he wanted, they nodded in unison. One ofthem pressed a button which opened the door to the vestibule outside theCommander's office.
Lors stepped inside and the door hummed shut behind him. The vestibulewas little more than a box-like room, containing a small visi-screen. Hepressed the small, black button at the base of the dark screen and kepthis finger on it while the lines waved.
"Firstspacer Lors to see the Commander," he said, as the rotund face ofhis future father-in-law waved and blurred into focus.
"Come in, Lors! Come in!" Zark's voice was a bellow of pleasure.
The heavy door swung open and Lors stepped into the room to click hisheels and slap his right hand against the black holster before theCommander's desk.
"Firstspacer Lors reporting, sir," he said, as Zark got up from thechair and came toward him.
"Lors, Lors, my son! How are you?"
They grabbed each other by the shoulders and laughed like children.Lors, despite his love for Beth Danson and the trouble that wasundoubtedly coming up, was happy as a Terran child at Christmas to seethe older man.
"Lors! Let me look at you! It's been eons since Thista! Jela's fairdying to get her hands on you again." He winked at Lors. "And I imagineyou are, too."
"She's here?" A ray of panic touched him and he hoped that it didn'tshow.
"Not that I know of, unless a ship came in. The last I heard, she waswaiting for a ship to take her off the base on Mars. She swears she'llget you this time, or she's going back home to find an old mushshellgatherer."
Lors laughed with Zark, who released him to pull a flask of wine fromhis desk. As he poured two tumblers of the milk-white wine, he winked atthe young spacer.
"From the home planet," he grinned. "Mallowine. I'll wager you haven'ttasted it in a long time."
"Not since Thista," Lors assured him, accepting the tumbler. He held upthe glass for a toast. "To you, sir, and your daughter. M
ay she be savedfrom marrying a mushshell gatherer."
Commander Zark chuckled and they drank, the soft, mellow taste of thewine lingering fondly in their mouths long after the drink had found itsway into their stomachs.
"Now then, Lors. Tell me what that fool of an Imry did to you."
He told the Commander everything, watching the older man nod his headfrom time to time, the stubby fingers of his hands forming a pyramidbefore his lips as he slumped in his chair. Lors left nothing out,except his love for Beth Danson. He couldn't bring himself to tell aboutthat. When he had finished, Commander Zark's eyes were hot with angryindignation.
"I'll see that Imry cannot get a command on a planet with a pure ammoniaatmosphere for this trick! I'll see him tortured by Thistians!" The oldman stopped his tirade as quickly as he had begun it. "You know whatthis means, Lors?"
"I'm afraid to guess."
"The wrecked scout ship can be covered up easily enough because of theTerran politics; they always arrange it so that one branch of governmenthas no idea of what the other branches are doing. We'll have some of ourmen in Washington mumble in their beards about experimental aircraftuntil everyone is taken from the scene except our people. Then we'llhave the ship taken somewhere, ostensibly to be studied, and they'll allforget it.
"But these Terrans are another matter. If they can get their people tolisten to them, we're in trouble..."
"Perhaps," Lors said softly, "if they were believed, it would speed upour relations with the Terran governments."
Zark shook his grey head. "No. They aren't ready yet. They're still insuch a fluctuating state that half the population believes in witchcraftand superstition, while the other half understands science and lookstoward the future.
"Besides, Lors, others have tried those same tactics and were notbelieved. To tell the truth, I'm not quite sure _what_ to do."
"We could continue the bluff."
The Commander's brows lifted. "You mean you continue as our agent downthere?"
"Yes, sir. The way it worked out, with the crash, it merely supportedthe story I was to tell Danson's wife. I really did have temporaryamnesia. No one knows anything, except about the ship. Brice foundDanson's watch at the crash site, but we could work a little mentaltrick on him and make him forget everything he knows, couldn't we?"
"It would be risky. You never know if that process will work until it istried. As much as I hate the thought, it would be best to kill both ofthem and send you back to the Terran woman. After we had tried to bluffout Imry's plan for a month, or so, we could arrange an accident for youin which it would appear that you were dead - perhaps utilizing the realDanson for the accident. Does the woman suspect anything?"
"I don't think so," Lors told him. "She seems too happy in having meback, at the moment."
Zark smiled at him and clamped a hand to his shoulder. "You're tired, myboy. Get some rest and we'll talk about this thing later. You can useFirstspacer Thesa's quarters. Danson is in yours."
"And Brice?"
"Unconscious. In the hospital. The shock of what took place down therehas him recalling every old wives' tale about witches that he has everheard."
"All right, sir," Lors said smiling. "I'll get to my quarters, then.Thank you."
"I'll send Jela to you, if she comes in."
"Thank you," Lors said, but felt shaken at the thought.