Gloria chuckled in a throaty voice. "Away," she said.
"Can you cook?" he demanded abruptly.
"Yes--why?"
"Then go rustle up some grub from the galley," he directed. "I'll have
to keep an eye on this crate until we're free and clear. We can decide
what to do next after we have time to think."
She looked at him strangely. Her own attitude puzzled her. It was the
first time she'd been given an order that she hadn't resented, but
then of course his direction made very good sense.
He looked upon her as she rose--and he found her fair.
She was. Gloria Hanford was an extremely attractive dish in her own
right. Amplified a few millionfold by the spaceman's enforced isolation
on Eden, Tau Ceti, and later upon Flatbush, Lalande 25372, she was a
dream. Either locale would have the result of making Medusa the Gorgon
look like Miss Universe of All Time, but Gloria Hanford didn't need any
handicaps.
By some strange chemistry of non-material radiation that required no
catalyst, there was no question between them.
Oh, they had a lot to find out about one another, but they had plenty
of time for that.
That and other things....