"Some feeling of internal warmth may now be experienced," said the little Logan. "Pay no attention to it." Before Jeff could reply, the machine had buzzed away.
"You've explained what your cousin told you," Lilah said. She moved the position of her chair close to the left side of the bed, so that the two of them were face-to-face. "And you've explained that when he's angry enough, he doesn't think about what he's saying. But you haven't explained one thing. Why were you fighting?"
"What's it mean, 'some feeling of internal warmth'?"
"When the nannies are working, your body temperature goes up. You didn't notice it the last time, because you were unconscious. Apparently they don't propose to knock you out this time. Why were you and Myron fighting?"
"We had an argument." Jeff thought back to the fight, and the feeling that he had more than enough time to block all Myron's punches. "It was very odd. We used to fight back on Earth, and he could hit me anytime he liked. Tonight he couldn't touch me."
"No? Seems to me he could—unless you gave yourself a black eye and a broken rib."
"That happened after I thought the fight was over. Myron didn't agree. He hit me when I wasn't expecting it. But before that, I seemed to have all the time in the world to avoid being hurt."
"Have you noticed any other differences recently? I mean, differences in yourself."
"No." Jeff paused. "Except that tonight, when I was getting ready to throw rings in a game Simon Macafee showed me, my hands didn't get all shaky. They usually do when I'm in a contest and I particularly don't want them to. Would that count?"
"Of course it would. Don't you see, Jeff? It's the nannies. When they worked on you last time, they made improvements. Nothing major—that would be outside their programming. But they tinkered a little with your nervous system, for better reaction time and damping the jitters."
"I felt I could hit Myron anytime I liked. He seemed wide open." Jeff thought back, to his cousin's murderous blood red face after he delivered that kick to the ribs. "I wish I had. Then I wouldn't be lying here dead from the neck down."
"Better than dead from the neck up. What were the two of you fighting about?"
She wasn't going to give up. Lilah was as persistent as her mother.
"He said something I didn't like. I went for him. I was the one who started it, not Myron."
"I'm sure I've said lots of things about you that you didn't like. But you didn't attack me."
"He wasn't talking about me." Jeff wished he could get up and run away. He was being forced along a path that he had no desire to take. "He said things about you."
"Oh." Lilah was quiet for a while, then she said, "What sort of things?"
"You don't want to know."
"Don't be ridiculous. I certainly do. What did he say?"
"Oh, I don't know." She stared at him grimly until he went on, "He said he got you excited, so you rubbed up against him when the two of you were dancing to try to excite him." Jeff paused. Lilah had flushed red, as red as Myron had been. "I wouldn't have hit him for that—you didn't have to dance with him if you didn't want to. But he said other things. He called you a little tart, and my fancy bitch. And he said you weren't any good at—stuff."
"And you believed what he said? I bet you did, every word of it. You may be one of the famous Kopals, but sometimes you make me wonder. Do you think I wanted to hang around with Myron? That your cousin is my type?" She leaned close to Jeff.
He couldn't even cringe. Myron was not there to receive her anger, but he was.
"Do you know why I was with Myron?" she went on. "I'll tell you, Jeff Kopal. Because a certain other person refused to show him around Confluence Center, and wouldn't go to Confluence with him. Mother said she asked you to do it, and you wouldn't. And you certainly hadn't shown any interest in taking me to Confluence. So guess who got stuck with the job, and was asked to be nice to Myron and show him around, and maybe see what she could learn about the fleet plans?"
"I didn't know that."
"There's plenty you don't know. But there's limits to being nice. Did you really think I rubbed up against Myron when we were dancing?"
"He said you did."
"Right. So of course you believed him. Do you believe everything your cousin tells you? Or just the things he says about me?"
"I didn't really believe what he said about you. At least, I didn't want to."
"So you started a fight with him?"
"I guess so. You see, I thought that if I—"
"Leave it, Jeff. You don't need to explain. Can't you see I'm glad you thought my reputation was worth fighting for? And if you want to know how much of what Myron said about me is true, I'll tell you: not a word of it. Let me tell you something about your cousin. I noticed in the first ten minutes that he never passes a mirror without pausing to admire himself. He talks and acts like he's God's gift to women. He constantly referred to you, comparing himself and pointing out how he is superior to you in every possible way. He told me about all the other girls and women he has been with—as if that is supposed to please me."
"He has been with others. I've seen him, at dances and parties."
"Do you think that makes a girl feel special, to be told that she's the hundredth in line? If I had done what he wanted—and he did want, and I wouldn't, I wanted nothing to do with him—then I'd just be another of his conquests. I'll tell you something else about Myron that you probably don't know. He's big, and he's handsome, and he looks great in a uniform. He's very self-confident, and he talks a smooth line. Not like you."
"Thanks."
"Don't get huffy. I'm not being horrible. I'd rather be with you any day." A Logan was arriving with a tray of food and drinks, but Lilah ignored it and went on, "I'm sure Myron has no trouble at all getting dates, or persuading girls to go off with him soon after he meets them. He wasn't lying about that. And I'm sure he has been with many girls—once, and only once. Anyone who doesn't see through Myron in the first couple of hours deserves what she gets. I bet you never saw him twice with the same girl."
"That's true. I never did."
"So why were you ready to believe I would go off with him?"
Jeff was tempted to say, "Well, it was your first date, and it had been only a couple of hours." Something warned him that would do more harm than good. "I didn't want to believe him. I didn't want him to say things about you, either. That's why I went for him."
"That's sweet of you. But you lost. And yet you say you could have hit him anytime. Why didn't you?"
"I nearly did. I had a clear target, but I pulled back at the last minute. I guess Myron is right. When it comes to fighting I'm a wimp."
"Depends on your wimp definition. People who hit someone just because they can aren't my idea of heroes. Don't move." Lilah leaned forward and touched Jeff's forehead. "How do you feel? You're very flushed."
"Like I'm on fire. It's just my head, though."
She took his left hand in hers, then reached out and placed her fingers on his leg just above the knee. "Don't get ideas. I'm checking temperatures. You can't feel it anywhere else, but you are warm all over. The nannies are starting to do their job. They use up a lot of raw materials and burn up plenty of energy. We'd better get some food into you, or they'll just take what they need and you'll crash when they are done. You'll crash anyway, once they really get going. Humans are easier to deal with when they can't decide to move around on their own."
She took the tray from the waiting Logan. "What do you want to eat?"
"Anything. Just shovel it in. You're right, I'm very tired and I don't know how much longer I'll be awake. Why did you go with Myron to a private room?"
"Oh, Jeff, let it go. Isn't it obvious that I don't find Myron the least bit attractive? I was supposed to coax him into telling me about the fleet's plans. Do you think he'd chatter on about that in public? Yes, I took him there. Yes, it was a dumb move on my part. But I do dumb things. Do you think you're the only one allowed to?"
Sh
e was forcing stew into Jeff's mouth, punctuating her remarks with spoonful after spoonful and forcing him to chew and swallow so fast that he had no chance to speak. Finally he closed his lips firmly and sat scowling until she got the message and pulled the spoon away. When he had chewed and swallowed, he said, "No more! Not until I say ready. One more question. The other day you told me that you knew what people from Earth are like. All sex-mad, you said. So why didn't you expect Myron to do exactly what he did?"
"You can blame Muv for that. The morning after you and I were in my rooms, I was really upset and Mother knew it. She asked me what was wrong. I told her what you said to me, and what I said back to you."
"I don't think I really said anything."
"That was Mother's reaction. She made me tell her everything as near as I could, word for word. She said I was emotional, and overreacting just because I like you. Then she said something I'd expect more of Simon Macafee than my mother. She accused me of' the logical fallacy of arguing from the general to the specific.' Do you understand that?"
"It means that just because a property applies on average to a whole group, you can't assume it will apply to a particular member of that group."
"Now you sound like Simon Macafee. Logical to the last breath. Did you know that you imitate him all the time? I think he's your hero." She held out the spoon, and Jeff shook his head. Her outline was beginning to blur, and when she spoke again it came from a long distance. "Anyway, Muv put it this way: Suppose you say, 'Jinners don't write poetry.' On average you will be right, because most jinners certainly don't. But if you apply it to a particular jinner you could be wrong, because there are some jinners who do write poetry. Or, just because there are lots and lots of people on Earth, it doesn't mean that everyone on Earth is only interested in sex and breeding. Mother told me I was being unfair to you."
"I think you were." Jeff's head was swimming and he felt ready to pass out, but passion for accuracy made him struggle to go on when he knew that he ought to shut up. "But you realize that although what your mother said is true in theory, and you can't argue from the general to the specific, it's not practically true. I mean, arguing your way, you'll be right more often than not."
"So I ought to have assumed that Myron couldn't be trusted, because most Earth people can't? Well, I know that now." She was at the side of the bed, returning Jeff to a supine position. "But I hope you're not telling me it applies to you, too. I wouldn't be a fool to trust you, would I? Because I do. Especially since you got hurt fighting for me. I never had a champion before. Can you hear me? I hope not."
Jeff had been trying to shake his head, assuring her that he could be trusted. At her last question he tried to move it up and down, with no better success. His eyes were closing, no matter how he tried to keep them open.
Lilah peered down at him. "Hello? Anybody home? Can you hear me? I don't think so. Just as well. I think I'll just sit here and hold your hand. Then I can tell my friends that we spent the night together."
Jeff struggled to answer. He wanted to say that Lilah had the right idea, she could trust him with anything in the universe and he would spend a night with her anytime he had the chance.
Not a word came out. His last thought was one of irritation. Being unable to move a finger, and then passing out, was one hell of a way to spend his first night with Lilah.
Chapter Nineteen
JEFF expected to meet Myron again before the Dreadnought left Confluence Center; expected it and feared it, yet somehow hoped for it. He had thought about little else but Myron and Lilah during his time in the medical center. The nannies performed their magic inside his body, his temperature rose and fell, and during his spells of consciousness the wild thoughts danced with dreams in a witch's sabbat around his head. He imagined the pleasure of seeing Myron's face when his cousin confronted a perfectly fit Jeff so soon after leaving him groaning on the floor with broken and bruised ribs and a ruined eye. There was another fight. He could see and smell it, feel and count every blow. This time Jeff could do what he had found impossible before, and he hit hard when the chance came. Myron broke into pieces. While Jeff wept over the fragmented body his cousin reassembled and came back stronger than ever. "That one was a fluke, a lucky hit," he jeered. He beat Jeff bloody as he had done so often in the past, then faded away into the darkness beyond the Messina Dust Cloud.
And there was Lilah. His dreams of her were not to be spoken of, but when he awoke in the medical center she was gone. He had no idea how long she had stayed, and his final conscious minutes with her had mixed in with nanny-induced dreams. He could not be sure what was reality, and what he had imagined.
She had not been to see him since, but that was no surprise. Nor had anyone else except the Logans—and only one of them, the little buzzing machine that brought food and drink and checked his progress. The whole of Confluence Center must be on red alert because of the ominous presence of the Dreadnought. Had anyone suggested to Lilah that she should spend more time with Myron? He would like to have been there for that meeting. But when he and Lilah met would they still have that strange, delicious intimacy, the mood of the final few minutes before he had drifted into unconsciousness?
Reality was a letdown from all points of view. Jeff emerged from his two-day enforced idleness and found the Dreadnought prepared for departure. He was not invited to the final ceremony and found himself obliged to watch it on a remote display in the main control room. Lilah, quiet and subdued, came in and joined him at the point where Connie Cheever was bidding the captain and crew of the visiting ship a formal and courteous farewell.
Captain Duval offered an equally restrained but flowery and friendly response.
"Words, words, words. They don't mean a thing." Lilah sounded bitter and contemptuous. It was the first thing she had said since she came in, and it hardly seemed to be addressed to Jeff. Was she referring to her words to him, spoken when she thought he was unconscious?
"They're only being polite, Lilah."
"People always are, before they go to war. Look at them."
Captain Duval wore a fixed smile worthy of Giles Lazenby. The honor guard at his right and left were at rigid attention. Myron, dressed to smart perfection, stood behind the captain and a little to his left. The sight of Myron produced in Jeff a flood of adrenaline—he felt equally ready to run or fight.
Connie Cheever received Duval's ceremonial bow and returned it with a rigidity that Jeff had never observed in her before.
"I don't see Simon Macafee anywhere," he said.
"You won't. He can't stand this kind of fakery. Not after what happened during the real negotiations."
"You were there?"
"No. Muv told me about them—when I pumped her hard enough. They had meeting after meeting, and we offered all kinds of concessions. The moment when mother decided that talk was useless came when Simon Macafee said, 'All right, take the Anadem field. If you want it so much, you can have it. I'll tell you exactly how it works, and how to build the generators.' That was a shocker—not only to the Dreadnought officers, but to our people, too. Simon has always resisted the idea of letting the field technology go to Sol. It floored Duval, and he requested a break so he and his people could huddle. When they returned he said that the Anadem field was not the only issue. There was also the question of the return of certain runaways, two jinners and an ensign, for possible court-martial. That would be a condition of any agreement. I think that's when Muv lost it. She wouldn't admit it to me, but I gather she told Duval to go and take his ship and his bargaining position and stuff them into certain unmentionable parts of himself and his crew. And Jinners Hooglich and Russo and Ensign Kopal, she said, would be welcome guests at Confluence Center for as long as they chose to stay."
The mention of his own name brought goose bumps all over Jeff. He stopped watching the display and turned to Lilah.
"We didn't run away. We were never given a choice to go with Dufferin and the others."
"I know that. I
said the same thing to Mother, and she told me I didn't understand what Duval and his bosses were really doing. They are playing a double game, she says. While they tell us that you and Hooglich and Russo are runaway traitors, back Sol-side they will stir up public support by saying you were captured and must be rescued."
"Support for war?"
"That's not the words that will be used. According to Simon, who knows more than you'd think about this sort of thing, the word of choice is annexation. They will 'annex' the Cloud. It's a polite way of saying that the Sol fleet will invade and take us over. The logic is, the Cloud was always part of Sol's territory, and so it's not so much an invasion as a restoration of natural order."
Jeff remembered Myron's tide of anger and blood red face. He turned again to the display and studied the image of his cousin, cold-faced and severe.
"I don't think it's just invasion. Look at Myron."
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