Norma leaped out of her chair and came across the room, her face
distorted, her hands clutching at his face. Farradyne fought her away,
and saw with dismay the look of animated pleasure on her face. It
was an unfair fight; Farradyne was trying to keep her from hurting
him without being forced to hurt her. She went at him with heel and
fingernail and teeth.
He gave up. Taking a cold aim at the point of her jaw, Farradyne let
her have it. Norma recoiled a bit and her face glowed even more. In his
repugnance at hitting a woman he had not struck hard enough. She came
after him again, enjoying the physical violence, looking for more of
the same. Farradyne gritted his teeth and let her have it, hard.
Norma collapsed with a suddenness that scared him. He caught her before
she hit the metal floor and carried her to the salon below, where he
laid her on the padded bench that ran along one wall. His knowledge of
things medical was not high, but it was enough to let him know that
she did not have a broken jaw. Of one thing there was no doubt: Norma
was out colder than he had ever seen man or woman.
He carried her to one of the tiny staterooms, and stood there
contemplating her and wondering what to do next. He would have been
puzzled as to the next move if Norma had been a completely normal
woman. As it was, Farradyne decided that no matter what he did it
would be wrong. She would be as angry at one thing as at another. The
cocktail dress would not stand much sleeping in before it came apart at
the seams, but she would surely rave if he took it off to save it for
tomorrow. If he left her in it, she would rave at him for letting her
ruin the only thing she had to wear.
Farradyne gave up and slipped the hold-down strap across her waist and
let it go at that.
He would take what happened when she woke up.
Then he went to his own stateroom and locked the door because he didn't
want any more ruckus and confusion. He slept fitfully even though the
locked door separated him securely from both amour and murder--both of
which added up to the same end with Norma.
It was a sixty-hour trip from Ganymede to Mars. Each hour was a bit
more trying than the one before. Norma bedeviled him in every way she
knew. She found fault with his cooking but refused to go near the
galley herself. She objected to the brand of cigarettes he smoked. She
made scathing remarks whenever he touched an instrument, reminding him
of his incompetence as a pilot. She scorned him for refusing to bring
her the lotus.
By the time Farradyne set the Lancaster down at Sun City on Mars, he
had almost arrived at the point where her voice was so much meaningless
noise.
He landed after the usual discussion of landing space and beacon route
with Sun Tower, and Farradyne found time to wonder whether the word
about his affiliation had been spread yet. For the Tower operator paid
him no more attention than if he had been running in and out of the
spaceport for years.
He pressed the button that opened the spacelock and ran out the landing
ramp.
"This is it," he said flatly.
"This is what?" she asked negatively.
"The end of the line."
"I'm staying."
"No, you're not."
"I'm staying, Farradyne. I like it here. You go on about your sordid
business, and see that you get enough to spare a couple for me. I'll be
here when you return."
Farradyne swore. She had moved in on him unwanted and had ridden with
him unwanted. If she wanted to, she could raise her voice, and brother,
that would be it. One yelp and Farradyne would spend a long time
explaining to all sorts of big brass why he was hauling a woman around
the solar system against her wishes. A phenomenal quantity of sheer
hell can be raised by any woman merely by making a howl of shocked
surprise, putting on a look of wounded dignity and pointing a finger at
any man within a pebble's throw. Even men who have been rooked in this
ladylike maneuver are inclined to lean the other way and convict the
man when a woman plays that trick.
So grunting helplessly, Farradyne left her in the Lancaster and went to
register at Operations. He was received blandly, just as he had been
received on Ganymede. Then he headed into Sun City to stall a bit. He
went to a show, had a drink or two, prowled around a bookstore looking
for something that might inform him about the love lotus and then
bought himself some clothing to augment his scant supply. He succeeded
in forgetting Norma Hannon for four solid hours.
Then he remembered, and with the air of a man about to visit a dentist
for a painful operation, Farradyne went reluctantly back to his ship.
The silence that met him was reassuring. Even if she had been sound
asleep, the noise of his arrival should have roused her so that she
would come out to needle him some more. He looked the ship over
carefully, and satisfied himself that Norma Hannon was not present.
This was too good to miss.
He raced to the control room, punched savagely at the button that
closed the spacelock and fired up the radio. "Lancaster Eighty-One
calling Tower."
"Go ahead, Lancaster."
"Request take-off instructions. Course, Terra."
"Lancaster, is your passenger aboard?"
"Passenger?"
"Check Stateroom Eight, Lancaster. Your passenger informed us that she
was going into town, that you were not to leave without her."
"Aye-firm, I will check." Farradyne snarled at the closed microphone.
Willfully abandoning a passenger would get him into more trouble than
trying to explain the reason for the presence of his guest. Norma had
done a fine job of bolting the Lancaster to the landing block in her
absence.
He waited fifty seconds. "Tower from Lancaster Eighty-One. I will wait.
My passenger is not aboard."
"Lancaster. Hold-down Switches to Safety, Warm-up Switches to
Stand-by. Power Switches to Off. Open your port for visitor."
"Visitor, Tower?"
"Civilian requests conference about pickup job. Are you free?"
"I am free for Terra, Tower."
"Prepare to receive visitor, Lancaster. Good luck on job."
"Aye-firm. Over and off."
Farradyne went below and rode the bottom step of the landing ramp on
its way out of the spacelock. He reached the ground about the same time
as the arrival of a port jeep, which brought his visitor to him.
"You're Charles Farradyne? I'm Edwin Brenner. I'm told you are free for
Terra. Is that right?"
"That's right."
Brenner nodded. He looked around. The jeep was idling and making enough
noise so that the driver sitting in the machine could not possibly hear
anything that was being said. The driver was not even interested in
them; something in the distance had caught his eye and he was giving it
all his attention. Satisfied, Brenner leaned forward and in a low voice
said, "Let me see what you've got."
Farradyne shook his head. "Who, me?" he asked.
"You. I'm in the market. If they're in good shape, we can make a deal."
Farradyne felt that this was as good a time to play cagey as any. "I
don't know what you are talking about."
"No? I hardly think you are telling the truth."