"At the Argonaut Club," she said. "As soon as Shanig was himself again
he photovised Perry and ordered him to take the smiley there, partly to
get Joey away and partly to cut down breakage expense at the Argonaut.
Perry's been there all day, associating with Eetee outlanders and
drinking skohl like any common spacehand. He'll drink himself to death
before Shanig finds a way to get to him, if we don't hurry."
I laughed until my face hurt. I couldn't help it. The idea of Perry
Acree drinking himself blind in the Argonaut's rowdy company was too
much. Thinking about the prayer-meeting hush that Joey must be laying
over the toughest shot-slot in the System made it all the funnier
until the real reason for Cheryl's hunting me down percolated through
my skull and sobered me up.
Her motive was enlightening, but not flattering.
* * * * *
"So that's why you risked your luscious hide to find me," I said. "To
talk me into dragging that idiot dwarf out of the Argonaut. Am I right?"
She looked hopping mad and pleading at the same time, which is quite a
trick even for a redhead.
"You can do it if anyone can. I checked on your background this
morning, and it seems that--well, that you may not be the windbag I
thought you after all. One asteroid prospector told me that you--"
"Never believe a chunk-hopper," I told her. "They lie for fun or on
principle, depending on the circumstances. But I'm not interested in
Perry Acree. If he hadn't tipped Shanig to my smiley none of this would
have happened. The _Annabelle_ would be clear of debt and I'd be in the
Argonaut instead of Perry. Why should I risk my neck for that simpering
sycophant?"
She had trouble telling me why. Having to ask my help burned her
plenty, and its being Perry's fault made it worse. She turned pink and
talked in circles, not meeting my eye, and when I finally guessed how
she had meant to persuade me you could have clubbed me down with a sand
thistle.
"You really _are_ sold on that puling parasite," I said. "Look, are you
sure he's worth a weekend on Phobos?"
"Beast!" she cried, and slapped my face.
"Good enough," I said when my ears stopped ringing. "Faint heart never
haggled with fair hell-cat. Let's go rescue your skohl-swilling light
of love."
I moved Cora's little tungsten cage into the helicar and Cheryl took
us up. We didn't have to wait for darkness. The split-second Martian
twilight took care of that in the wink of an eye.
The two-hour flight was almost pleasant. The stars over our speeding
helicar glittered down like far, frosty eyes and the gritty red ocean
of desert under us lost its harshness and took on a magic pattern of
soft, shifting shadows. Phobos paced us across the black night sky like
a swift silver morning-star, and the little gray jackals crept out
of their dens and howled at her with all the pent-up loneliness of a
million, million years.
Cheryl shivered at their keening, and the thought that she could be as
skittish as other women gave me a little jolt of surprise.
"Mournful little beggars, aren't they?" I said. "I wonder what they'd
think of Earth, with its big yellow moon all night in the sky?"
Cheryl didn't answer, but it seemed to me that she thawed out a little.
It was almost cozy in the helicar after that until the dusty neon haze
of Areopolis ballooned up out of the desert.