A little flicker of amusement showed in her eyes. "Why shouldn't I
recognize Earth's foremost bio-physicist and leading authority on
cellular structure? Come on in. I'll buy you a drink. You'll love this
place. They've even got a waiter who thinks he can speak English."
"Thanks," Ronson said. "I'll take you up on that." He was astonished
and bewildered by this woman. He had spent most of his life in
the laboratories of Earth. The women who had been there had been
flat-breasted, pale creatures in low-heeled shoes who had called him
"Sir," and "Doctor," and who had obviously been greatly in awe of
him but who had apparently never had a red-blooded thought in their
lives. He had regarded them as a sort of neuter sex, creatures who had
obviously been intended by nature to be female but who had gotten their
hormones mixed up somewhere along the line. This girl was different.
Her name, somehow, had a haunting familiarity, as if he had heard it
somewhere before. But he couldn't remember where.
She went through the door ahead of him. As Ronson passed through, a
Martian thrust his head around the corner outside and threw a knife.
The steel blade buried in the door facing within six inches of the
human's head. He hastily ducked through the door.
Looking annoyed, the girl started back to the street outside. "I'll fix
him," she said, pulling the needle gun.
Ronson caught her shoulder. "Let well enough alone," he said firmly.
"Anyhow you were going to buy me a drink."
Her eyes held a curious mixture of annoyance, defiance, and longing.
Her gaze went down to his hand on her shoulder. Ronson grinned at her.
"You look as if you are about to bite me," he said. "Go ahead, if you
want to." He did not move his hand.
Wonder came into her face. "A great many men have tried to paw me,
without getting very far. But somehow, I don't think you're trying to
do that."
"About that drink?" Ronson said.
"Sure." She moved toward a table set against the far wall.
Ronson dared to breathe again. Whatever else this girl was, she was
certainly full of fight and fury. She could have gone out into the
street, in the face of thrown knives, if he hadn't stopped her. As she
moved toward the table, he had a chance to look at the place in which
he found himself.
What he saw was not reassuring. Except for a big circle in the center
of the room, the place was crammed with Martian males of all sizes and
descriptions. Waiters scurried through the crowd. The circle on the
floor was outlined in red. No customer and no Martian ventured within
it. Ronson glanced at it, asked the girl a question.
"I just got here too," she said. "I haven't had time to find out about
it. Some superstition of theirs, I think." She led him to the table.
Two glasses were already on it. A waiter appeared out of nowhere. "This
is the one who speaks English. Talk to the gentleman, Tocko."
"Oh, yessen, missen. Me talken ze English and but very gooden. Me
learnen ze human talken at Mars Porten. Don't I talk him gooden?" The
last was directed at Ronson.
"You speak him very wonderfullen," Ronson answered. The waiter beamed.
"Bring the gentleman a mariwaukee," the girl said.
"Oh, yessen, missen."
"On second thought, make it a double shot," the girl said. "The
gentleman looks like he needs it." She nodded brightly to Ronson as if
she had selected the very medicine he needed. "Now tell me what you are
doing on Mars, Dr. Ronson?"
Ronson glanced hastily at the waiter, to make certain that he was out
of earshot. "I--I came here on a vacation," he said firmly and loudly.
"I've wanted to see Mars ever since I was a kid. Who--ah--was sitting
here with you before I came?"
"A man," she answered. "He went to the little boy's room just before
you got into trouble in the street. I guess he's still there, if some
Martian hasn't slit his throat. Are you enjoying your vacation?"
"Of course."
"Do you mind if I call you Jim?" She smiled at him.
"I would be very pleased."
"Good. You can call me Jennie."
"Thanks."
"Then you are enjoying your vacation." Her smile was very sweet. "Are
you also enjoying trying to lie to me--Jim?"
Ronson caught his start of surprise. Jennie Ware bewildered him but
this was a game that two could play. "Of course I'm enjoying it. Lying
to a woman as beautiful as you are is always a pleasure--Jennie." He
grinned at her and watched the anger come up on her face. Why should
she be angry?
The anger was gone as swiftly as it had come. She leaned across the
table, put her hand on his. "I like you Jim. I really do. And not
because you called me a beautiful woman but because you kicked me in
the teeth with my own act. I had it coming and you gave it to me very
neatly."
The touch of her hand was very pleasant. "No hard feelings.
What--ah--are you doing here, Jennie?"