Rod managed a thin smile. "I grew up on an asteroid, sir. Our buildings may not look like pressure domes, but that's what they are—and we're raised with puncture drills. I've known how to set a patch since I was ten."
" 'D ja ever really do it before?"
"Once. That was the only time I ever got there first."
Weiser nodded slowly. "Guess even an aristocrat can earn his keep. Well, the fuss is over. Back to stations, everyone."
Rod still served at mess that night, but Weiser didn't glare at him once. Rod's heart sang—he was proving himself!
And the topic of conversation had changed. The officers had some bragging to do.
"What were you trying to do in that restaurant, McCracken—eat the whole menu?"
"No, just everything on it."
Muldoon smiled thinly.
McCracken went on, "Too bad about the keg in the Fall Inn."
"What about it?" Weiser frowned. "I didn't see nothing wrong."
"Then why were you trying to outdo it?"
A laugh rounded the table; even Muldoon joined, and Weiser grinned. "Talk about me having the high old time! Whelk was out with his wife again."
"Which one this time?"
Muldoon's smile faltered.
"The Ceres one." The first officer smiled at Rod. "Entirely legal, Mr. d'Armand—on both Mars and Ceres. Not on Terra, of course—but I don't go there very often."
"Not unless he wants to wear his law suit," Weiser jibed.
"However, our gallant Captain must take his share of ribbing," Whelk said, with a sly wink at Donough. "That was a beautiful brunette we saw you with at Pastiche's, sir."
"Why, thank you, Mr. Whelk." Donough inclined his head, and Muldoon's smile disappeared.
"Brunette?" Weiser frowned. "She was a redhead!"
"No, that was the one at Malloy's," McCracken corrected him. "Cute as a button."
"In a pig's eye!"
"No, the one at The Pig's Eye was blonde."
"Hey, I was at Pastiche's, and she was a redhead!"
"Oh?" said Whelk. "When were you there?"
"Twenty-one hundred."
"Oh, the early shift. Well, I saw him there when we dropped in for a morning snack, about 0400. She was a brunette by then."
Muldoon had to look down at her plate. Rod felt a lump in his throat, and searched wildly for a way to change the topic—but all he could think of was Fess saying, "Swabbies should be seen and not heard."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Donough smiled around at them, amused. "I'm afraid you have caught me out. Margot is my second cousin; she was waiting for me as…"
The hoots of laughter drowned out the end of the sentence.
"And I'll bet the blonde was your Aunt Greta!"
"No, she's the sister of a friend who asked me to take her to dinner, poor thing. She's very shy, never goes out…"
Weiser howled, then smothered it to a chuckle, glanced at Muldoon, and went silent.
"As to the other two," Donough said with dignity, "you'll have to assume prior acquaintance; there as no other way I could have arranged to meet them, ahead of time."
"No way at all," Whelk said, deadpan. "It's too bad you didn't have time to fully enjoy the company of any one of them."
McCracken tried to swallow a snicker.
"Social obligations must come before personal pleasure," Donough sighed.
"Yes, but personal pleasure should be considered." Whelk turned serious, and also turned to Muldoon. "You really must take shore leave now and then, Engineer. It's vital to your emotional well-being."
"Yes, Muldoon!" McCracken turned a genial smile on her. "Why don't you come along next time?"
"Yeah, Gracie!" Weiser said, with genuine concern. "You gotta quit moulderin' in that engine room! Get out an' live a little! You need it!"
"No," Muldoon said, very quietly, "I don't think so."
She was still very quiet as she led the way back to the engine room. Rod felt awkward as he followed behind her, knowing damn well that she wanted to be alone, but not seeing any polite way to excuse himself. He kept feeling as though he should make conversation, but knew it would do more harm than good.
As they came through the door, Muldoon muttered something about paperwork and sat down at her terminal. Rod drifted around the engine room, not knowing where else he could go, but not wanting to be in her way. She was punching at the pads as though they were mortal enemies. The silence stretched tighter and tighter, till Rod could almost hear it thrum.
Finally, he couldn't take it any more. "Uh, sir, I could take the watch, if you needed to do…"
Then he couldn't hear himself anymore, because she was sobbing.
Rod was terrified. Oh, he'd dealt with tears before, but these sounded real. His instincts moved him to her as surely as his glands, but he didn't know what he could do.
Finally, he gave in and dropped to one knee beside her. "It'll be all right," he murmured. "It all comes out okay in the end! It's not really that bad!"
"Oh, shut up!" she stormed. "You don't even know what you're talking about!"
Rod recoiled, stricken.
Muldoon saw, and broke up all over again. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be a beast when you were only trying to help. But it is that bad! He goes out and sees every pretty girl he can cram into twelve hours, because he knows he won't see one again for a month! And every day, he's sitting right across from me, seeing me every time he looks up! But I'm not pretty!"
"You are!" Rod protested.
"Oh, be quiet, you idiot! I'm as plain as they come! I'm ugly!"
"You are beautiful!" Rod stormed. "Underneath those smudges is the most delicate, entrancing face I've ever seen! Your figure takes my breath away! Your features are the kind men kill each other for! Your eyes are pools that a man could lose himself in!"
She stared at him, her sobs slackening. "Do… do you really think so?" She hiccupped.
"I swear it!"
"Well… You're a rich boy, you must have seen the best…"
"Best, my fandango! You're so far beyond them that you can look back at the galaxy!"
"But… but they've got those lovely dresses… and they're graceful, and refined, and…"
"They're as graceful as penguins on land! You move like a fairy princess!"
"You've only seen me in free fall…"
"Give me a chance to see you in gravity," he begged. "Go on shore leave. Believe me—the Maximan girls don't have an ounce of your beauty!"
"But… in the pictures on the screen…"
"What pictures? Oh—You mean those little clips they put in on the 3DT romances? Those're actresses, not real Maximans. Oh, sure, now and then you'll see a few shots of a real ball—but the camera's so far away that you can't really see the faces and figures at all."
"But they're aristocrats!"
"Yeah, and they look like it, too. All they have that you don't have is pretty dresses and makeup—and you can buy both of those."
"But I wouldn't know what to do with powder and rouge if I had it!"
Rod took a deep breath. "Trust me. I do."
He had studied the use of face paint through many an inordinately dull banquet—since he'd had to look at his table companions, he'd had to find something to keep his mind busy, so he'd started figuring out how they'd managed whatever effect they'd achieved. Then he'd had a few makeup workshops in the Maxima Amateur Theater Society, and he'd had a chance to study the process at close range, while the female Thespians labored with brush and liner.
"Yes, you must use a foundation! I know your complexion is perfect—I'd think you'd never exposed it to sunlight!"
"I didn't." Muldoon glared up at him. "I grew up in L-5. But I did have acne."
"Then you had one hell of a doctor. But skin is skin, and you're going to be a canvas!"
"Oh, all right," Muldoon griped, and sponged it smooth. Then she picked up a stick.
"No," Rod said, "not the pencil. Use the brush; shadow lines aren't rea
lly drawn with a ruler.''
"But the pencil's so much easier!" Muldoon complained.
"Do you want ease, or results? Remember, it has to shade—chiaroscuro, just as in a painting. That's what you're going to be, when you get done—a work of art. Dust that color back in from the cheekbones."
"But I can't move with these things on!"
"Then you'll never be graceful in gravity. Those magnets should give you just about the same pull as one G—I had Fess design them. Remember, now, one foot at a time, and short steps."
"I'll never get anywhere, that way!"
"Where you're trying to get, isn't measured in meters. You can move fast if you take lots of quick steps. Okay, try it… Good! You've got the feet right. Now, keep your back straight, and your shoulders back a little."
"But that makes my—you know. Like I'm trying to show off."
"What's the matter—are you ashamed of them? No? Then walk as though you're proud—that's right! Now, tilt your chin up just a little…"
Rod's head swiveled from side to side.
"Give it up," Muldoon advised. "You can't see everything at once."
"I can try, can't I? Wow! So this is Ganymede!"
"Yeah, one big shopping mall, except for the spaceport. You name it, you can buy it."
"Oh, come on! There have to be some laws!"
"Don't tell the natives—they'll think you're swearing."
"Oh, wow-wow-wow-WOW!"
"Blink or your eyes will dry out," Muldoon grated. "We're here to look at dresses, not the lack of them!"
Rod pulled his eyes away with an almost-audible snap. "That is definitely not the right style for you!"
Muldoon scowled up at him. "How do you know what a woman should wear?"
"Sir, when it comes to beauty, I'm not just a consumer, I'm an addict! All I have to do is dress you like my dreams."
"I thought you said that wasn't the right style for me."
"Oh, doing your hair?" Rod popped in around the open cabin door. "Remember, now, you have to rat it before…"
"Shove off, swabbie," Muldoon muttered around a mouthful of hairpins. "This is something I do know."
"You do?" Rod couldn't help goggling. "Where'd you learn?"
"Before school, every day for thirteen years."
"Then wh—" Rod just barely managed to swallow the rest of it.
"Because when I got to college, I decided there was no reason to put up with the pain, and swore I'd never do it again. Will you get out of here?"
"But what about your oath?"
"I'm going to start using it in about three seconds. Now shove off!"
"Shopping!" Weiser chortled. "The little guy's going shopping! Hey, if ya see something frilly, take it in and have it filled, will ya?"
"Let him alone, Weiser," McCracken grumped. "At least he's getting Gracie to step out a little."
"Yeah. Nice move there, mister." Weiser throttled it down to a grin. "How come you know all about dresses, buddy boy?"
"Mr. Weiser," Rod said, in his loftiest manner, "I have always enjoyed studying dresses closely—after there's something in them."
"Oh, yeah? Did you learn anything?"
"A lot, about truth in packaging." Rod turned around at the sound of high heels. "Ready, sir?"
"You betcha, swabbie!" Muldoon floated up in a velvet dress, hair falling in gentle waves, makeup flawless, and a twinkle in her eye. "Let's go see Titan!" She hooked her hand through his elbow and charged out to do battle with the cash register.
Weiser's head pivoted on his shoulders as he watched her go by. He studied their retreating forms, mostly hers. "Y' know, that kid just might be smarter than he looks."
"Yeah, and maybe he's so smart that he's dumb." McCracken frowned at him. "I worry too much, Albie."
"D'Armand's Finishing School," Weiser chuckled. "It'll finish you, if you don't stop snickering."
"I'm not snickering, I'm chuckling."
"Well, stow it, whatever it is—here she comes." They tipped their hats as Muldoon breezed by. "Hi, Gracie!"
"Good to see you, Grace!"
" 'Grace' is the word," Weiser murmured, watching her retreating back. "Maybe the kid knows what he's doing."
"Maybe he does," McCracken agreed. "Pull your eyes back into your head, Albie."
"Ceres again," McCracken sighed. "Whelk goes off to his wife, the captain goes off with a crowd, and I go off to dinner."
"Whatever we're doing, let's go." Weiser had the fidgets. "Do we have to wait for the captain?"
"More a matter of him waiting for you." Whelk came up. "I understand he wants to give us all a sermon."
"For liberty?"
Donough came up with a smile. " 'Ten-shun! Now, men, I know this is going to be something of a strain, but I understand we're giving the good ship Murray Rain a bad reputation."
"Bad rep?" Weiser squalled. "We've been angels! Well… compared to…" His voice trailed off.
Donough nodded. "Just what I had in mind, Mr. Weiser. Who ever heard of a sedate sailor, sea or space? Now, I do want dignity at all times—but see if you can't be a little wilder about it, eh? All right, now, out we… What are you staring at?"
All three officers were gazing past his shoulders with eyes like saucers. "Captain… Gracie…"
Donough turned to look, and looked again.
She came toward them with small quick steps, one hand on the bulkhead to keep her down to the deck, eyes bright, an eager smile, and a dress that clung to every contour.
Donough gasped as though he'd been hit, or at least smitten.
Weiser was the first to recover. "Hey, Gracie, I know this great little place…"
McCracken bowled past him. "Grace, would you consider dinner at the most fantastic restaurant…"
Whelk just looked unhappy; he had a wife waiting.
"Ten-hut!"
They all pulled a brace. The captain saw Gracie at attention, and took a deep breath himself. "Gentlemen," he said quietly, "for once, I'm going to pull rank. Ms. Muldoon, may I have the pleasure of your company for dinner tonight?"
"Oh, yes, Captain!" Muldoon fairly glowed as she took his arm and stepped out under the stars, gazes locked with Donough's. Weiser stood in the hatchway staring after them, muttering, "She's in love with him. I knew it, yeah—so why's it hit hard, now?"
"Maybe because he never realized she was a woman before," Rod said.
Weiser turned to him, narrow-eyed. "Speak when you're spoken to, Mister! If she gets a heartbreak, it's you I'll come looking for!"
And, for a moment, Rod didn't think Weiser was going to wait. He braced for combat, resolved not to lose his head this time. All he could say was, "She needed it."
"Yeah." There was no definite sign, but he could see Weiser cooling down. "I oughta hate you for it—but I can't. 'Cause I love her." He studied Rod for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You, too, huh, kid?"
Rod swallowed and nodded.
Then Weiser's arm shot out—to slap him across the shoulders and turn him toward the hatchway. "Come on, swabbie—let's go get drunk."
And they did. Totally.
He woke to the sound of singing, croaked piteously, and tried to bury his head under the pillow, but it was fastened down.
"Oh, Rod, it was so wonderful!"
Rod rolled up enough to crack one bloodshot eye open. The ultimate vision of female loveliness sat down on his bed, and he was in no condition to do anything about it.
"The whole night, Rod! He spent the whole night, just with me! No taking me back to the ship and going off!"
"I'm s' happy," Rod moaned.
"First it was dinner, then it was dancing! Then we went to the first night club, and a gypsy came over and played a violin—just for us!"
Rod wanted to ask her to speak more softly, but he didn't have the heart.
"Then another club, and another, and I was hoping he wouldn't proposition me, 'cause I didn't know if I would've been able to resist—but he didn't."
T
hank heaven for small mercies. Personally, Rod wished the ship would stop rolling.
Then he remembered it was a spaceship, and the waves were only in his stomach.
"No other women! No blondes! No brunettes! Just me!" Muldoon glided up into a pirouette. Rod caught his breath.
"We got drunk, but not terribly—we didn't need to. We had breakfast at Pastiche's and strolled back along the Boulevard Glazé, and I never realized before how beautiful the asteroids can be, like stars in a waltz! And he stopped in front of the church, Ceres' only church, and asked me to marry him!"
Rod stared, too horrified to make a sound.
"Of course I said yes. I didn't have to think about it—I already have, so many times! I said yes, and he took me inside and caught us a minister, and he helped us catch each other, and we stopped by a jeweler's on the way back to the ship, and here it is!"
She thrust a small glacier under Rod's nose. He goggled, staring at the iceberg and the slim gold band next to it, and felt his stomach sink, then lurch. But he managed to whisper anyway, "All best wishes."
"Oh, thank you, you darling! And I owe it all to you!" Muldoon seized his face, gave him a quick, warm, but thorough kiss, and said, "I'll never forget you for this." She bowed her head, suddenly looking terribly shy, and breathed, "Gotta go now. My husband is waiting."
Then she was gone, in a swirl of taffeta.
Rod moaned and rolled over on his bunk, hanging his head over the bucket beside it. "Fess—what have I done?"
"You have made a good woman very happy, Rod."
"But it wasn't supposed to work out this way!"
"How was it supposed to operate, then?"
"Oh… I dunno… But somehow, she was supposed to realize that I was the one who really loved her, and wind up with me!"
"You will have her eternal gratitude, Rod. You will have a friend for life."
"A friend is not quite what I had in mind…"
Chapter 11
A low moan echoed through the hall.
The children were up in an instant, their hair standing on end. Gwen was sitting straight, glaring.
"Oh, no!" Rod groaned. "Not again!"
" T-'tis a spirit of another sort, Papa."
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