"Two women on Lucifer: valuable livestock." Wright smiled with his
mouth full. "I'm boss, remember? For guinea-pig work, the men draw
lots."
She was grave. "I won't argue. It so happens----" She peeked into the
nest. "Poor little fuzzies lined it with fur. Their own, I'll bet."
"It so happens what, dear?"
"Ah.... This eleven-year-old gookum claims to be coffee. Can we make a
fire? Looks like dead wood over there."
The branches burned aromatically; the morning was growing into deep
warmth, but still with freshness. Wright said, "Coffee my shirt."
Dorothy tasted it. "Brr...! I was about to say when I interrupted
myself, it so happens I'm six or seven weeks pregnant, I think."
"Six----" Wright set his aluminum cup carefully upside down. Paul
mumbled, "That's what's been on your mind."
Behind her eyes he glimpsed the primitive thing, deeper than thought,
not like a part of her but a force that sustained her, himself, all
others: the three billion of Earth, the small grieving spirit now
flown away into the trees. "Yes, Adam. I would have told you sooner,
but we all had a lot on our minds."
"Even before we got in orbit, you saw us settling--staying----"
Dorothy grinned then. "No-o, Paul. I just wanted the baby. Could have
been born on the ship. The Federation said no, but...."