“What do you think?” Gait was asking his Patrol chief.
“I don’t know, sir,” Lludrow answered. “It seems the only sensible interpretation.”
“The thing,” interrupted Donal, again, “would be to go over some of the nonsensible interpretations as well, to see if one of them doesn’t constitute a possible danger. And from that—”
“Donal,” broke in Gait, dryly, “you are my aide, not my Battle Op.”
“Still—” Donal was persisting, when the marshal cut him off in a tone of definite command.
“That will be all!”
“Yes, sir,” said Donal, subsiding.
“Then,” said Gait, turning back to Lludrow, “we’ll regard this as a heaven-sent opportunity to cut an arm or two off the fighting strength of the Newton Cassidan fleet and field force. Go back to your Patrol. I’ll send orders.”
Lludrow inclined his head and was just about to turn and go when there was an interruption—the faint swish of air from one of the big office doors sliding back, and the tap of feminine heels approaching over the polished floor. They turned to see a tall, dazzlingly beautiful woman with red hair coming at them across the office.
“Elvine!” said Gait.
“Not interrupting anything, am I?” she called, even before she came up to them. “Didn’t know you had a visitor.”
“Russ,” said Gait. “You know my sister-in-law’s daughter, The Elvine Rhy? Elvine, this is my Blue Patrol Chief, Russ Lludrow.”
“Very deeply honored,” said Lludrow, bowing.
“Oh, we’ve met—or at least I’ve seen you before.” She gave him her hand briefly, then turned to Donai. “Donal, come fishing with me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Donal. “I’m on duty.”
“No, no,” Gait waved him off with a large hand. “There’s nothing more at the moment. Run along, if you want.”
“At your service, then,” said Donal.
“But what a cold acceptance!” she turned on Lludrow. “I’m sure the Patrol chief wouldn’t have hesitated like that.”
Lludrow bowed again.
“I’d never hesitate where the Rhy was concerned.”
“There!” she said. “There’s your model, Donal. You should practice manners—and speeches like that”
“If you suggest it,” said Donal.
“Oh, Donal.” She tossed her head. “You’re hopeless. But come along, anyway.” She turned and left; and he followed her.
They crossed the great central hall and emerged into the garden terrace above the blue-green bay of the shallow, inland sea that touched the edges of Gait’s home. He expected her to continue down to the docks, but instead she whirled about in a small arbor, and stood facing him.
“Why do you treat me like this?” she threw at him. “Whyr
‘Treat you?” He looked down at her.
“Oh, you wooden man!” Her lips skinned back over her perfect teeth. “What’re you afraid of—that I’ll eat you up?”
“Wouldn’t you?” he asked her quite seriously— and she checked at his answer.
“Come on. Let’s go fishing!” she cried, and whirled about and ran down toward the dock.
So, they went fishing. But even slicing through the water in pursuit of a twisting fish at sixty fathoms depth, Donal’s mind was not on the sport. He let the small jet unit on his shoulders push him whither the chase led him; and, in the privacy of his helmet, condemned himself darkly for his own ignorance. For it was this crime of ignorance which he abhorred above all else—in this case his ignorance of the ways of women—that had led him to believe he could allow himself the luxury of a casual and friendly acquaintanceship with a woman who wanted him badly, but whom he, himself, did not want at all.
She had been living here, in this household, when Gait had brought him here as a personal aide. She was, by some intricate convolution of Freiland inheritance laws, the marshal’s responsibility; in spite of the distance of their relationships and the fact that her own mother and some other relatives were still living. She was some five years older than Donal, although in her wild energy and violence of emotion, this difference was lost. He had found her excitements interesting, at first; and her company a balm to what—though he would not admit it to himself in so many words—was a recently bruised and very tender portion of his ego. That had been at first.
“You know,” she had said to him in one of her peculiar flashes of directness. “Anybody would want me.”
“Anybody would,” he admitted, considering her beauty. It was not until later that he discovered, to his dismay, that he had accepted an invitation he had not even suspected was there.
For four months now, he had been established at the marshal’s estate, learning some of the elements of Freilander Staff Control; and learning also, to his increasing dismay, some of the intricacies of a woman’s mind. And, in addition to it all, he found himself puzzled as to why he did not want her. Certainly he liked Elvine Rhy. Her company was enjoyable, her attractiveness was undeniable, and a certain brightness and hunger in her personality matched similar traits in his own. Yet, he did not want her. No, not the least bit, not at all.
They gave up their fishing after several hours. Elvine had caught four, averaging a good seven or eight kilograms. He had caught none.
“Elvine—” he began, as he went up the steps of the .terrace with her. But, before he could finish his carefully thought out speech, an annunciator hidden in a rosebush chimed softly.
“Commandant,” said the rosebush, gently, “the doorbot announces a Senior Groupman Tage Lee to see you. Do you wish to see him?”
“Lee—” murmured Donal. He raised his voice. “From Coby?”
“He says he is from Coby,” answered the rosebush.
“I’ll see him,” said Donal, striding quickly toward the house. He heard the sound of running feet behind him and Elvine caught at his arm.
“Donal—” she said.
“This’ll just take a minute,” he answered. “I’ll see you in the library in a few minutes.”
“All right—” She let go and fell behind him. He went in and to the entrance hall.
Lee, the same Lee who had commanded his Third Group, was waiting for him.
“Well, Groupman,” said Donal, shaking hands. “What brings you here?”
“You do, sir,” said Lee. He looked Donal in the eye with something of the challenge Donal had marked the first time Donal had seen him. “Could you use a personal orderly?”
Donal considered him.
“Why?”
“I’ve been carrying my contract around since they let us all go after that business with Killien,” said Lee. “If you want to know, I’ve been on a bat That’s my cross. Out of uniform I’m an alcoholic. In uniform, it’s better, but sooner or later I get into a hassle with somebody. I’ve been putting off signing up again because I .couldn’t make up my mind what I wanted. Finally, it came to me. I wanted to work for you.”
“You look sober enough now,” said Donal.
“I can do anything for a few days—even stop drinking. If I’d come up here with the shakes, you’d never have taken me.”
Donal nodded.
“I’m not expensive,” said Lee. ‘Take a look at my contract. If you can’t afford me yourself, I’ll sign up as a line soldier and you pull strings to get me as-
95B signed to you. I don’t drink if I’ve got something to do; and I can make myself useful. Look here—”
He extended his hand in a friendly manner, as if to shake hands again, and suddenly there was a knife in it.
“That’s a back-alley, hired killer trick,” said Donal. “Do you think it’d work with me?”
“With you—no.” Lee made the knife vanish again. “That’s why I want to work for you. I’m a funny character, commandant. I need something to hang to. I need it the way ordinary people need food and drink and home and friends. It’s all there in the psychological index number on my contract, if you want to copy it down and check on me.”
“I’ll take your word for it, for now,” said Donal, “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m borderline psycho,” Lee answered, his lean face expressionless. “Not correctable. I was born with a deficiency. What they tell me is, I’ve got no sense of right or wrong; and I can’t manage just by abstract rules. The way the doctors put it when I first got my contract, I need my own, personal, living god in front of me all the time. You take me on and tell me to cut the throat of all the kids under five I meet, and that’s fine. Tell me to cut my own throat—the same thing. Everything’s all right, then.”
“You don’t make yourself sound very attractive.”
“I’m telling you the truth. I can’t tell you anything else. I’m like a bayonet that’s been going around all my life looking for a rifle to fit on to; and now I’ve found it. So, don’t trust me. Take me on probation for five years, ten years—the rest of my life. But don’t shut me out.” Lee half-turned and pointed one bony finger at the door behind him. “Out there is hell for me, commandant. Anything inside here is heaven.”