"Oh, I don't know." She looked down at her legs, raised them up from
the floor and held them out in front of her. "I think I'd kind of like
Nestir. With his funny bald head. I hope he asks me."
"I'll mention it to him."
"Would you really, Harry? That would be sweet."
"Sure, honey." He looked down at his watch.
"Harry? Are you going to meet Wanda in the control room?"
"Uh-huh."
"I thought so. Well, remember this, dear: It isn't the day of the
Changing of the Wives yet. Don't forget."
"Honey! You don't think for a minute that...."
"No, dear. I know you wouldn't. But just _don't_, I mean."
* * * * *
He walked over and kissed her forehead and patted her cheek. "Course
not," he said, comfortingly.
He left her sitting on the bed and strolled down the officers'
corridor, whistling.
He made a mental note to have the bosun send some of the crew in
tomorrow to wash down these bulkheads. They needed it. In one corner a
spider spun its silver web.
He jogged up the companionway, turned left and felt the air as fresh as
spring when he stepped under the great ventilator.
And beneath it lay one of the crew.
He kicked the man several times in the ribs until he came to
consciousness.
"Can't sleep here, my man," Harry explained.
"Awww. Go way an' le' me 'lone, huh?"
"Here. Here." He pulled the fellow erect and slapped him in the face
briskly. "This is the officers' corridor."
"Oh? Ish it? Schorry. Shore schorry, shir. So schorry."
Harry assisted him to the crew's corridor where he sank to the floor
and relapsed once more into a profound slumber.
Harry continued on to the control room.
When he entered it, the second mate was yawning.
"Hi, John. Sleepy?"
"Uh-huh. You're early."
"Don't mind, do you?"
"No ... Quiet tonight. Had to cut the motors an hour ago. Control
technician passed out."
"Oh?"
The second mate took out a cigarette and lit it. "Can't blow the ship
up, you know. Look like hell on the record. Hope the captain don't find
out about it, though. He'll figure the man was neglecting his duty."
He blew a smoke ring.
"Might even bar him from the Festival."
"Yeah," said Harry, "the captain's funny that way."
The second mate blew another smoke ring.
"Well," Harry said.
"Uh. Harry? Are you really going to take that Wanda girl?"
"If Nestir lets me."
"Say. Harry. Do you suppose your wife would...?"
* * * * *
Harry crossed to the second mate and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry, old fellow. She's got it in her head to take Nestir." He
shrugged. "I don't exactly approve, of course, but ... I'm sure if he
doesn't want her, she'd be glad to hear your offer."
"Aw, that's all right," John said. "Don't really matter. Say. By the
way. Have I told you what I intend to do to the captain? I've got it
all thought out. You know that saber I picked up on Queglat? Well...."
"Look. How about telling me another time?"
"Uh, Sure. If you say so. Uh?"
"I'm kind of expecting Wanda."
"Oh. Sure. I should have known you weren't here early for nothing. In
that case, I better be shoving off. Luck."
"Thanks. See you at breakfast."
"Right-o."
After the second mate left, Harry walked over to the control panel.
The jet lights were dead. He picked up the intercom and switched over
the engine call bell. "'Lo," he said into the microphone. "This is
the bridge.... Oh, hi, Barney. Harry.... Have you got a sober control
technician down there yet...? Fine. We'll start the jets again. If the
captain comes in now--well, you know how he is.... Okay, thanks. Night."
He replaced the microphone. He reached over and threw the forward
firing lever. The jet lights came on and the ship began to brake
acceleration again.
Having done that, he switched on the space viewer. The steady buzz of
the equipment warming sounded in his ears. Wanda would be sure to want
to look at the stars. She was simple minded.
"Hello."