"What else can you do?" asked Farradyne, spreading his hands.
"Not much; but I feel that I owe her more than that kind of handling.
Those sanatoriums are little better than jails, you know."
"So I've heard. But what can you do for people cursed with a disease
that nobody knows how to cure?"
"Segregate 'em," sighed Clevis. "Well, let's see what we can do about
carting her out of the ship and into my car. About the ships--you'll be
followed at extreme military radar range, Farradyne. I won't be there,
but you'll have very hard-boiled company watching you."
They went below and found Norma. She was sleeping, relaxed as a kitten,
with one leg drawn up to uncover the other shapely leg. Her hands were
outstretched over her head, her breathing regular and normal. The
hellflower still cast its heady perfume through the room, and Norma
was smiling in her sleep, probably dreaming some completely normal
woman-type dream.
Farradyne plucked the flower from her hair. "This I'll need," he said
quietly. Clevis nodded.
Farradyne stooped down, but Clevis waved him away. "I'll carry her."
The Sandman picked Norma up gently. She sleepily protested, but put her
arms around Clevis' neck and let herself be carried from the salon.
Watching from the port, Farradyne saw them leave. They looked like a
happy party-couple, leaving after too many cocktails, with the girl
dozing on her man's shoulder.
Farradyne grinned sourly and shrugged. Clevis had bought himself a
bundle of trouble. When Norma really awakened, she would be without her
love lotus and would be back to her former self. She would pick Clevis
as a target for the only emotion she could really feel. Norma would
hate Clevis for taking her away from the man she could really hate in
spades. Redoubled. Farradyne shrugged again and went to bed.
* * * * *
Carolyn came aboard the next evening and her first request was for her
"gardenia." She put it in her hair and stood there inviting Farradyne
with her eyes. He kissed her briefly and waved her to a seat.
"Tired of me, Charles?"
"I've had no time to get used to you, let alone tired of you," he told
her. "But I'm more than a trifle curious about this trip we'll be
taking in the morning."
"Why not let it wait until then?"
Farradyne looked at her boldly, made no attempt to hide his careful
appraisal of her figure and her face. She accepted his brazen eyeing,
although she colored a bit. At last he said, "Let's admit it--there's
nothing I'd rather do than spend the night making love. It's one of my
favorite indoor sports. It's fun outdoors, too. But there are at least
two things against it."
She frowned.
He smiled. "You've made affectionate noises, but also a few statements
regarding your previous affections that lead me to believe you would
not applaud me if I slung you over one shoulder and carried you down to
your stateroom for a spot of seduction. Second, the way to get ahead
is to marry the boss' daughter, not make a mistress of her. Gentlemen
do not take kindly to daughters' lovers. So we've got to think of
something like chess or tiddledy-winks for the next few hours, because
I haven't enough ice in these hardened arteries to keep my hands off
you otherwise."
She leaned back and laughed. "That's the nicest compliment I've ever
had--in a backhanded way," she said.
"Then behave, Carolyn. Turn off the lure unless you really want the man
you're luring."
The laugh was still in her voice when she asked, "But how can I behave
myself when you've given me a love lotus, Charles?"
Farradyne's mind raced in a tight circle. He cursed his impulse to find
out whether Carolyn were immune, because it had now led him into the
problem of trying to square it with his role of a young and ambitious
man who felt deep regard for her. He parried for time:
"Love lotus?"
"A real one."
"But you--I--you wore it all last night! It can't be."
"It is."
Farradyne felt almost certain that Carolyn did not know of Norma's
visit, which had verified the hellflower's potency. "How can you tell?"
he asked blankly. "You did not react, and I--"
"I'm immune," she said flatly. "Why did you give it to me, Charles?"
"I bought it for a gardenia, Carolyn. Hell, I can't tell 'em apart."
"It's a genuine love lotus. How much did you pay for it?"
Farradyne almost felt a glow of cheer. He fumbled in his pocket and
came up with the cash register receipt. "The usual five dollars," he
said.
"Someone must have been trying to start another addict," she said in a
hard tone.
He looked at her. "But why did you wear it?" he asked.
"I wore it because I know I'm immune and I wanted to see how you
reacted. If it was for the usual reason, I was going to lead you on and
then send you packing." She looked up at him shyly. "I didn't want it
to be for the usual reason, Charles, but I was confused."
"But how do you tell them apart?"
"That I'll not tell you until tomorrow."
Farradyne shrugged. "Okay," he said, taking the love lotus out of her
hair and tossing it down the disposal chute. "So what'll it be? Chess,
or tiddledy-winks?"
"Astronomy," she said with a smile. "We can see no stars from where I
live on Mercury, you know."
He followed her up to the control room and stood behind her as she
peered through the spotting telescope. She leaned back against him and
rubbed her cheek against his chin.
"None of that, woman," he said sternly.
She turned in his arms and melted against him. He held her close for
a bit and then turned her around again to the telescope. "Remember my
creaking blood pressure, Carolyn."
Astronomy is a pleasant hobby. It took Farradyne's mind away from the
problem at hand, although the problem was inclined to lean back in his
arms frequently while he was readjusting the setting wheels; or to rub
his ear with her chin while he squinted through the finder to locate
another celestial view.
At midnight, Farradyne showed her to her stateroom--and kissed her good
night at the door.
He went to bed congratulating himself that he had succeeded in playing
the tender, high-minded, thoughtful lover.
* * * * *
At six a.m., Farradyne checked out for space, still wondering where
they were going. Tower signed him off with a few crude remarks about
damned yawning people in the morning, and cited himself as a man
finishing a hard night's work. Then contact was closed and Farradyne
was free of the board.
He had two choices.
He could either wake her up because he wanted to be near her, or he
could let her sleep because he did not want to disturb her. He chose
the second and went down to the galley and had a heavy breakfast.
Afterwards he loafed in the salon, trying to plan his future.
She appeared about ten o'clock and reproached him for not calling her.
Then she asked, "Where are we?"
"About a half million miles out," he said after a moment's thought.
"But the important thing is that we're on our way but your pilot
doesn't know where he's going."
"Can you strike a line between Terra and Polaris at a distance of three
hundred million miles?"
"Duck soup," replied Farradyne. "But how fast?"
"Zero with respect to Terra at three hundred million."
"Let's go up and start computing," he suggested. "I'll construct you
some grub after we get the first approximation and get the ship on the
preliminary correction course."
He led her up to the course computer in the control room, where she
added the time of rendezvous to the rest of the figures. He plunked at
the keyboard steadily for a minute, then sat back while the calculator
machine went through the program of arithmetical operations for which
it was designed. He took the punched paper strip from the machine and
fed it into the autopilot, and then said, "Now we'll go below and eat."
"You haven't been waiting for me, have you?"
He nodded, hoping that he looked a bit lovesick.
"You shouldn't have."
She led him below and eyed the dirty dishes with womanly amusement.
"You're a sweet sort of liar, Charles," she said, turning and coming
into his arms.
He returned her kiss, thinking: "_these are the dames that try men's
souls_."