The uproar of the landing of the Tellurian contingent was over; the
celebration of victory had not yet begun. Haynes had, peculiarly
enough, set a definite time for a conference with Kinnison and the two
of them were in the admiral's private office, splitting a bottle of
fayalin and discussing--apparently--nothing at all.
"Narcotics has been yelling for you." Haynes finally got around to
business. "But they don't need you to help them clean up the zwilnik
mess; they just want to have the honor of having you work with them--so
I told Ellington, as diplomatically as possible, to take a swan dive
off of an asteroid. Hicks wants you, too; and Spencer and Frelinghuysen
and thousands of others. See that basketful of stuff? All requests
for you, to be submitted to you for your consideration. I submit
'em, thus--into the wastebasket. You see, there's something really
important--"
"Nix, chief, nix--jet back a minute, please!" Kinnison implored.
"Unless it's something that's got to be done right away, gimme a
break, can't you? I've got a couple of things to do first--stuff to
attend to. Maybe a little flit somewhere, too, I don't know yet."
"More important than Patrol business?"--dryly.
"Until it's cleaned up, yes." Kinnison's face burned scarlet and
his eyes revealed the mental effort necessary for him to make that
statement. "The most important thing in the Universe," he finished,
quietly but doggedly.
"Well, of course I can't give you orders--" Haynes' frown was distinct
with disappointment.
"Don't, chief--that hurts. I'll be back, honest, as soon as I possibly
can, and I'll do anything you want me to--"
"That's enough, son." Haynes stood up and grasped Kinnison's
hands--hard--in both his own. "I know. Forgive me for taking you
for this little ride, but you and Mac suffer so! You're so young,
so intense, so insistent upon carrying the entire Cosmos upon your
shoulders--I couldn't help it. You won't have to do much of a flit." He
glanced at his chronometer. "You'll find all your unfinished business
in Room 7295, Base Hospital."
"Huh? You know, then?" shouted the overjoyed young giant.
"Who doesn't?" was the admiral's quizzical rejoinder. "There may be a
few members of some backward race somewhere who do not know all about
you and your red-headed sector riot, but I don't happen to know--" He
was addressing empty air.
Kinnison shot out of the building and, exerting his Gray Lensman's
authority, he did a thing which he had always longed boyishly to do but
which he had never before really considered doing. He whistled, shrill
and piercingly, and waved a Lensed arm, even while he was directing a
Lensed thought at the driver of the fast ground car always in readiness
in front of GHQ.
"Base Hospital--full emergency blast!" he ordered, and the Jehu obeyed.
That chauffeur loved emergency stuff, and the long, low, wide racer
took off with a deafening roar of unmuffled exhaust and a scream of
tortured, burning rubber.
"Thanks, Jack--you needn't wait." At the hospital's door Kinnison
rendered tribute to fast service and strode along a corridor. An
express elevator whisked him up to the seventy-second floor, and there
his haste departed completely. This was Nurses' Quarters, he realized
suddenly. He had no more business there than--yes, he did, too. He
found Room 7295 and rapped upon its door. Boldly, he intended, but the
resultant sound was surprisingly small.
"Come in!" called a clear contralto. Then, after a moment, "_Come in!_"
more sharply; but the Lensman did not, could not obey the summons. She
might be--dammitall, he _didn't_ have any business on this floor! Why
hadn't he called her up or sent her a thought or something? Why didn't
he think at her now?
* * * * *
The door opened, revealing the mildly annoyed sector chief. At what
she saw, her hands flew to her throat and her eyes widened in starkly
unbelieving rapture.
"_Kim!_" she shrieked in ecstasy.
"Chris--my Chris!" Kinnison whispered unsteadily, and for minutes those
two uniformed minions of the Galactic Patrol stood motionless upon
the room's threshold, strong young arms straining, nurse's crisp and
spotless white crushed unregarded against Lensman's pliant gray.
"Oh ... I've missed you so terribly, my darling!" Clarrissa crooned.
Her voice, always sweetly rich, was pure music.
"You don't know the half of it, Chris. This isn't real, I don't think.
It can't be--nothing _can_ feel this good!"
"You did come back to me--you really did!" she lilted. "I didn't dare
to hope that you could come so soon."
"I had to." Kinnison drew a deep breath. "I simply couldn't stand it
any longer. It'll be tough sometimes, but you were right--half a loaf
_is_ better than no bread."
"Of course it is!" She released herself--partially--after the first
transports of their first embrace and eyed him shrewdly. "Tell me, Kim,
did Lacy have a hand in this surprise?"
"Uh-huh," he denied. "I haven't seen him for ages--but jet back! Haynes
told me--say, what'll you bet that those two old hardheads haven't been
giving us the works?"
"Who are old hardheads?" Haynes--in person--demanded. So deeply
immersed had Kinnison been in his rapturous delirium that even his
sense of perception was in abeyance; and there, not two yards from the
entranced couple, stood the two old Lensmen!
The culprits sprang apart, flushing guiltily, but Haynes went on
imperturbably, quite as though nothing out of the ordinary had been
either said or done:
"We gave you fifteen minutes, then came up to be sure to catch you
before you flited off to the celebration or somewhere. We have matters
to discuss--important matters, but pleasant."
"QX. Come in, all of you." As she spoke, the nurse stood aside in
invitation. "You know, don't you, that it's exceedingly much contraregs
for nurses to entertain visitors of the opposite sex in their rooms?
Fifty demerits. Most girls never get a chance at even one Gray Lensmen,
and here I've got three!" She giggled infectiously. "Wouldn't it be one
for the book for me to get a hundred and fifty black spots for this?
And to have Surgeon General Lacy, Port Admiral Haynes, and Unattached
Lensman Kimball Kinnison all heaved into the clink to boot? Boy, oh,
boy, ain't we got fun?"
"Lacy's too old and I'm too moral to be affected by the wiles even of
the likes of you, my dear," Haynes explained equably, as he seated
himself upon the davenport--the most comfortable thing in the room.
"Old? Moral? Tommyrot!" Lacy glared an "I'll-see-you-later" look at the
admiral, then turned to the nurse. "Don't worry about that, MacDougall.
No penalties accrue--regulations apply only to nurses actually in the
service--"
"And what--" she started to blaze, but checked herself and her tone
changed instantly. "Go on--you interest me strangely, sir. I'm just
going to love this!" Her eyes sparkled, her voice was vibrant with
unconcealed eagerness.
"Told you she was quick on the uptake!" Lacy gloated. "Didn't fox her
for a second!"
"But say--listen--what's this all about, anyway?" Kinnison demanded.
"Never mind; you'll learn soon enough," from Lacy, and:
"Kinnison, you are very urgently invited to attend a meeting of the
Galactic Council tomorrow afternoon," from Haynes.
"Huh? What's up now?" Kinnison protested. His arm tightened about the
girl's supple waist and she snuggled closer, a trace of foreboding
beginning to dim the eagerness in her eyes.
"Promotion. We want to make you something--galactic co-ordinator,
director, something like that--the job hasn't been named yet. In
plain language, the big shot of the Second Galaxy, formerly known as
Lundmark's Nebula."
"But, Klono's brazen claws! Chief, I can't swing it--I haven't got jets
enough!"
"You always yelp about a deficiency of jets whenever a new job is
mentioned, but we notice that you usually deliver the goods. Think it
over for a minute. Who else could we wish such a job as that onto?"
"Worsel," Kinnison declared without hesitation. "He's--"
"Balloon juice!" snorted the older man.
"Well, then ... ah ... er--" He stopped. Clarrissa opened her mouth;
then shut it, ridiculously, without having uttered a word.
"Go ahead, MacDougall--you are an interested party, you know."
"No." She shook her spectacular head. "I'm not saying a word or
thinking a thought to sway his decision one way or the other. Besides,
he'd have to flit around as much then as now."
"Some travel involved, of course," Haynes admitted. "All over that
Galaxy, some in this one, and back and forth between the two. However,
the _Dauntless_--or something newer, bigger, and faster--will be his
private yacht, and I do not see why it is either necessary or desirable
that his flits be solo."
"Say, I never thought of that!" Kinnison blurted, and, as thoughts
began to race through his mind of what he could do, with Chris beside
him all the time, to straighten out the mess in the Second Galaxy:
"Oh, Kim!" Clarrissa squealed in ecstasy, squeezing his arm even
tighter against her side.
"Hooked!" the surgeon general chortled in triumph.
"But I'd have to retire!" That thought was the only thorn in Kinnison's
whole wreath of roses. "I wouldn't like that."
* * * * *
"Certainly you wouldn't," Haynes agreed. "But remember that all such
assignments are conditional, subject to approval, and with a very
definite cancellation agreement in case of what the Lensman regards
as an emergency. If a Gray Lensman had to give up his right to serve
the Patrol in any way he considered himself most able, they'd have to
shoot us all before they could make executives out of us. And finally,
I don't see how the job we're talking about can be figured as any sort
of a retirement. You will be as active as you are now--yes, more so, I
think."
"QX. I'll be there--I'll try it," Kinnison promised.
"Now for some more news," Lacy announced. "Haynes didn't tell you, but
he has been made president of the Galactic Council. You are his first
appointment. I hate to say anything good about the old scoundrel,
but he has one outstanding ability. He doesn't know much or do much
himself, but he certainly can pick the men who have to do the work for
him!"
"There's something vastly more important than that," Haynes steered the
acclaim away from himself.
"Just a minute," Kinnison interposed. "I haven't got this all straight
yet. What was that crack about active nurses a while ago?"
"Why, Dr. Lacy was just intimating that I had resigned, goose,"
Clarrissa chuckled. "I didn't know a thing about it myself, but I
imagine that it must have been just before this conference started. Am
I right, doctor?" she asked innocently.
"Or tomorrow, or even yesterday--any convenient time will do," Lacy
blandly assented. "You see, young man, MacDougall has been a mighty
busy girl, and wedding preparations take time, too. Therefore, we have
very reluctantly accepted her resignation."
"Especially, preparations take time when it's going to be such a
wedding as the Patrol is going to stage," Haynes volunteered. "That was
what I was starting to talk about when I was so rudely interrupted."
"Nix--not in seven thousand years!" Kinnison exploded. "Cancel that,
right now. I won't stand for it. I'll not--"
"Close the pan, young fellow," the admiral advised him, firmly.
"Bridegrooms are to be seen--just barely visible--but not heard, ever.
A wedding is where the girls really strut their stuff. How about it,
you gorgeous young menace to civilization?"
"I'll say so!" she exclaimed in high animation. "I'd just _love_ it,
admiral--" She broke off, aghast. Her face fell. "No, I didn't mean
that, really. Kim's right. Thanks a million, just the same, but--"
"But nothing!" Haynes broke in. "I know what's the matter. Don't try
to fib to an old campaigner, and don't be silly. I said the Patrol
was throwing this wedding--_all_ of it. All you have to do is to
participate in the action. Got any money, Kinnison? On you, I mean."
"No," in surprise. "What would I be doing with money?"
"Here's ten thousand credits--Patrol funds. Take it and--"
"He will not!" the nurse stormed. "No! You can't, Admiral Haynes,
really. Why, a bride has _got_ to buy her own clothes!"
"She's right, Haynes," Lacy announced. The admiral stared at him in
wrathful astonishment, and even the girl seemed disappointed at her
easy victory. "But listen to this: As surgeon general, et cetera, in
recognition of the unselfish services, et cetera, unflinching bravery
under fire, performance beyond and above requirements or reasonable
expectations, et cetera, et cetera, Sector Chief Nurse Clarrissa
MacDougall, upon the occasion of her separation from the service, is
hereby granted a bonus of ten thousand credits. That goes on the record
as of hour twelve today. Now, you red-headed young spitfire, if you
refuse to accept that bonus, I'll cancel your resignation and put you
back to work! What do you say to that?"
"I say QX, Dr. Lacy. Thanks a million, both of you--you're perfect
darlings and I love all two of you!" The gaspingly happy girl kissed
them both, then turned to her betrothed.
"Let's go and walk about ten miles, shall we, Kim? I've got to do
_something_ or I'll explode all over the place!"
And the tall Lensman--no longer unattached--and the radiant nurse swung
down the hall.
Side by side, in step, heads up, laughing; a beginning symbolical
indeed of the life which they were to live together.