All of a sudden, it had hit me. I'd been asking a lot of questions
lately, and getting only partial answers. Now I had all the answers,
and I hated every one of them.
The misdirection and lying on Weidmann's part was clear as a bell. It
had been designed to get me off Earth and headed for Titan without
anybody knowing the real reasons--even me. They knew that if the real
secret ever leaked out, every renegade and pirate in the system would
swarm down, battling to the death to get their hands on this ship.
So they pulled the purloined letter gag. They hid the ship and its
mission in plain sight. They sent me off in her to deliver the engine
parts to where the hyperspatial drive could be assembled, and from
there I'd be able to fly her to whatever star they chose, ghosting
along in a universe where the speed of light as we knew it was not the
fastest speed a ship could hit.
They'd given me a good excuse, too. "Pile fuels!" A big enough cargo
to justify using me and a special ship, but not so big that I couldn't
handle the opposition I'd get from the Belt gangs, who'd fight for it,
sure, but who'd try a lot less hard, and discourage a lot easier, than
they would if they knew what was really up.
The only trouble with that was that they did know.
Sure--what else could it be? Earth was thick with two-bit sneaks and
spies who sold information to anybody with the price. Even Earth
government thought enough of them to cook up this big production. One
of them must have dug deeper than anyone thought.
Thorsten knew, that was a cinch. He knew so well, that he hadn't even
wanted to chance a fight out in space, where the drive might get shot
up. He'd sent Pat out to decoy me into him.
* * * * *
I stood there, cursing, my big fists closed into sledges. Pat--Pat,
that beautiful, wonderful actress. Pat, who was death with a gun and
arson for me with her lips.
All my life, I'd been getting mad at people and things. During the war,
I was crazy mad at Marties. Afterward, I was mad at anybody who wanted
to push other people around. I got mad at Pat, because I thought she
was playing me for a sucker.
And Pat had taught me what hatred could do. She'd given me love to
replace it.
And played me for a sucker.
I stood there--Ash Holcomb, the toughest man in space, maybe. Not the
smartest--no, not the smartest. The dumbest, the stupidest chump who'd
ever fallen for the oldest gag in history.
And nobody knew about it. Back on Earth, they were sure they'd gotten
away with it. Even Weidmann--Weidmann with the grin, Mort Weidmann who
had gone helling around in a hundred dives with me, who didn't need
obvious signs like long hair or breasts to spot a woman's figure--he
thought everything was all right, too. He was probably shaking his head
with envy, back on Earth, thinking of all the fun I'd be having in
hyperspace.
Nobody knew the mess the System was in, except me. And nobody could do
anything about it, now, except me.
That thought knocked me out of the raging mood I had been working
myself into. I couldn't afford to lose my head.
I'd been wondering how Thorsten was going to work a rendezvous right in
the middle of the Belt, with renegade Marties that had held out from
the war swarming all over the place, just waiting for a prize like
this.
The answer was simple--he'd worked out an alliance with them. Probably
the Marties thought they could use it to reconquer the System. If I
knew Harry, he had other plans, but they were probably just as bad.
What in hell was I going to do?
One more thought hit me, that was the worst one of all, because it held
out an impossible hope.
It was all right to picture Weidmann getting a boot out of me taking a
woman along. Under ordinary circumstances, that might have been true.
But this was too big, too important. There were two alternatives.
Weidmann must have known I was a D.O. I could assume that. But, knowing
how important the job was, Weidmann wouldn't have let Pat come along,
no matter what, _if he hadn't thought she and I were working together_.
And that one stopped me cold.
_Was she, or wasn't she?_
V
What was Pat doing, tied up with Thorsten? She was a high grade
operator now, as far from the immature tease I'd known at the Academy
as I could imagine. Where had she learned to handle a gun like that?
Where had she gotten the experience that let her handle a job this
size by herself?
I couldn't answer that--not any of it, and it was driving me nuts.
I stared over the control banks at the forward screen, watching the
stars, and beating my brains out.
We'd been out in space for two days, and I hadn't dared to try and find
out. You don't, when you're alone with the woman you love.
She was standing next to me, and I looked up at her. The coveralls gave
a pretty good indication of what lay beneath, and it was top grade.
Not that her figure was that spectacular--she had something more than
figures on a tape measure. There was a precision, a slim freshness and
freedom to the way one curve flowed into another. It sounds silly, but
the way she held herself reminded me of a thing I'd seen once; a rocket
transiting the sun, fire sparkling from the shimmering hull, and the
Milky Way behind it.
I finally caught what I was trying to phrase; she looked as if she was
poised for flight.
She grinned down at me. "Like it?" she asked, chuckling. Her green eyes
crackled with light, and there were little demons in her laugh.
I tried to think of a clever comeback, but I couldn't. I just said,
"Yes."