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FOURTEEN

"It's as big as the Perfidisian ship," Kawashita said, looking at the image of Nestor's vessel on the lounge screens. "And it has teardrop shapes on struts . . . just the same." His voice was shaky.

"No coincidence. It's a practical design for ships built to travel through higher spaces. Don't ask me why, though. I leave that to my engineers."

"I've never seen the stars so clear before."

"Give us magnification two thousand on the nine-W-nine-N square," Anna requested. The screen fogged, then cleared, and a bright wreath of gas appeared, surrounded by the stars of the galactic disk. "That's the Lily, a supernova remnant. Beautiful, no? And valuable. She has a few planets still, one of them the stripped core of a gas-giant. United Stars has a mining operation on that world—Kiril, what's the name of the Lily's mining planet?"

"Amargosa," the pilot answered through the intercom.

"Amargosa strained the supernova cloud of quite a sampling of superheavy elements, all useful in warper-ship technology. But her surface is made of solid hydrogen. The central city has to be isolated by thermal shields. I've never been there—USC has never invited me—but someday I'd like to see it. Back to full screen. Now look just beyond the shadow of the ship—see that ring of stars? They're surrounded by fields of radiation so intense they can't be approached through normal space. And if a ship tries to get to them through higher spaces, she's never heard from again. We suspect it's an Aighor stronghold, but we don't know whether Aighors are still there. The Centrum is negotiating with them right now to find out what's going on. It could be dangerous to have a phenomenon like that in our midst and be completely wrong about what it is."

"There is so much to see," Kawashita said wistfully. "In the beginning I thought perhaps I was dead. The dense region of stars—from Earth, it is still called the Milky Way?"

Nestor nodded.

"In my Japan there were stories about the Milky Way. It was called Heaven's River. On one side was a woman weaving, on the other a lover who could cross the river only on the seventh night of the seventh moon. And some thought that when you died, you crossed the river to become a star. I crossed Heaven's River, yet I didn't die. Can I expect much more out of life after a miracle like that?"

"Don't see why not," Anna said. "You didn't get to do much sight-seeing along the way."

Kawashita shook his head and grinned. "I wonder whether you have much poetry in your soul."

Anna mirrored his smile, a particularly ambiguous response. "Women don't need to be poets, not as much as men."

"In Japan some of the best poets were women. The men were too busy with wars and politics."

"Well, maybe I'm a man at heart. My poetry lies in what I do. My ambition is to give other people reasons to be poetic, and time to do it in. In return, I have a certain amount of freedom to do and be what I please. I'm not dry inside, though. I'm just not very good at putting my thoughts into words."

The pilot interrupted. "Docking in three minutes. We've already had six requests for matched quarters with Yoshio."

"Well?" Anna asked the Japanese.

"Matched quarters?"

"Is there anyone you'd like to share a room with?"

Kawashita thought it over for a moment, then shook his head back and forth once, quickly. "Not yet."

Anna nodded. "He's not taking offers yet." She turned back to Kawashita. "You know, that means they'll accuse me of keeping you to myself."

"But we have not—"

"Gossip doesn't feed on truth. Don't worry, though. It can't tarnish my reputation any more."

"I apologize for inconvenience."

"Docked." the pilot announced.

"Not at all," Anna said. "Welcome to my home away from home."

Only a small portion of Anna's entourage had come to the planet's surface with her. The rest had stayed in their various quarters, laboratories, and studios, going about life as though nothing unusual were happening. A few came to the lander bay to meet the boarding party, and among them was one of the furred tecto alters Kawashita had seen before. She kept her gaze on him and he was confused. Nestor took him by the arm, introduced him around, and led him out of the bay. "We call it Peloros. One of my more extravagant tools and toys."

"Peloros was a monster," Kawashita said, looking at the robot conveyors on the other side of the corridor's glass partition.

"True, but another Peloros was a navigator of great skill. I like the mix. My father suggested it before the ship was built. You are now an official guest, and protocol demands I give you the best. But the best is a bit too rich even for my blood, and you probably won't be used to it, so you have a choice."

"I was just getting used to your cabin in the lander."

"That's Spartan fare, Yoshio. Only my ascetic friends live in such deprived surroundings. But maybe something can be arranged."

"I begin to feel homesick," Kawashita said. "Actually, I've been homesick for some time now. It is probably crazy, but I had peace in the dome, after the Perfidisians went away. Much time to think. Now I have a flood of thinking to do, and too little time to do it in. Can I have just a place to rest, recuperate? And a tapas pad. And food I am used to."

Nestor nodded at each request. "Easily arranged. I was kidding—not all of us are sybaritic. A lot of useful work gets done on board. I don't put up with people who waste time."

"What will I do as guest? How will I pay my way?"

They came to the corridor's end, a wider hall lined on each side and on the ceiling with hatches leading to cabins. Nestor didn't answer for a moment, and there was an awkward silence.

"You can keep us entertained, I suppose, telling about old history. Stories of life in the dome. But most of all, for my pleasure, you can survive and try to be content. One part of me says that a man who has roots as far in the past as you do won't be able to stand our cultures. He'll go crazy. There are ways of repairing him, but he won't be the same. But you aren't going crazy. You're adapting, and rather well. That fascinates me. You improve my view of humanity, and that's a valuable gift. You're also a planetholder, which makes you a potential business partner. No matter how barren a planet might be on first look, someone, somewhere, will think of a use. You control how your planet will be used, and if you control it wisely, we all benefit."

"Which comes first," Kawashita asked, "human interest or mercenary?"

"Personally, human interest. As a free-lance adviser, the mercenary aspects can't be ignored. Socially, there's prestige in having you as my guest. Take your pick of any aspect—there are a lot more. I haven't bothered to sort them out." She cocked her head to one side and lifted the corners of her lips with the barest indication of a smile. "Our cultures may be more complex, but the people probably aren't. A lot of what you knew on Earth and in the dome still applies. I'm interested to see how you apply it." She took a small card from her pocket and handed it to him. "Your room is number forty-five on the right side of the hall. Going in and out, pay attention to the access light above the hatch. You can tell whether someone is leaving the room above you, and avoid bumping into him, her, or . . . it. No it's this voyage."

He held up the card. "This is a key."

"Hold it in whichever hand you're most inclined to use, leave it there for thirty seconds, then slip it into the notch under the access light. That keys you into the room. Only you can open the hatch by touching the entrance panel—except in an emergency, of course. If you wish, you can key it to voice activation. The machines will explain themselves. Forty-five is an adjustable cabin. It'll do anything you tell it to, short of expanding. Make it as spare as you wish. When you've gotten used to it, I'd like you to join me on the bridge for dinner."

"When do we leave?"

"We already have. A few hours after dinner, we'll enter higher spaces."

Kawashita nodded and watched her walk down the long corridor back to the vehicle bay. Then he entered his room. When he opened the door, he saw that the closet was putting away his clothes for him.

 

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Framed