Heinlein, Robert A – Friday

“Tilly, I think you are right, on all points. I had assumed that you would want an alibi. But you’re better off without one.”

She looked at me and smiled. “Don’t let that keep you from taking Dr. Madsen to bed. Enjoy yourself. One of my jobs was to keep men out of your bedÄas I think you knowÄ”

“I figured it out,” I agreed dryly.

“But I am switching sides, so that is no longer the case.” Suddenly she dimpled. “Maybe I should offer Dr. Madsen a bonus. When

he calls on his patient the next morning and I tell him that you’re well and have gone to the sauna or something.” –

“Don’t offer him that sort of bonus unless you mean business. As I know that he means business.” I shivered. “I’m certain.”

“If I advertise, I deliver. Are we all straight?” She stood up, I followed.

“All but what I owe you.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Marj, you know your circumstances better than I do. I’ll leave it up to you.”

“But you didn’t quite tell me what you are being paid.”

“I don’t know. My master hasn’t told me.”

“Are you owned?” I felt sudden distress. Any AP would.

“No longer. Or not quite. I was sold on a twenty-year indenture. Thirteen years to go. Then I’m free.”

“ButÄ Oh, God, Tilly, let’s get you off the ship, too!”

She put a hand on my arm. “Take it easy. You’ve got me thinking about it. That’s the main reason I don’t want to be tied up. Marj, I’m not on the ship’s rolls as indentured. Consequently I can take a groundside excursion if I can pay for itÄand I can. Maybe I’ll see you down there.”

“Yes!” I kissed her.

She pulled me to her strongly, and the kiss gained speed. She was moaning against my tongue and I felt her hand inside my robe.

Presently I broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. “Is that how it is, Tilly?”

“Hell, yes! From the first time I bathed you.”

That evening the migrants leaving the ship at Botany Bay staged a lounge show for the first-class passengers. The Captain told me that such shows were traditional and that the first-class passengers customarily contributed to a purse for the colonistsÄbut that it was not compulsory. He himself went to the lounge that nightÄalso traditionalÄand I found myself sitting with him. I used the opportunity to mention that I was not feeling well. I added that I might have to cancel my reservations for dirtside excursions. I groused about it a bit.

He told me that, if I did not feel perfectly fit, I certainly should not risk exposing myself on the surface of a strange planetÄbut not

to worry about missing Botany Bay, which wasn’t much at best. The rest of the trip was the wonderful part. So be a goot girl or should I lock you in your room?

I told him that, if my tummy didn’t stop acting up, it wouldn’t be necessary to lock me up. The trip down to Outpost had been horridÄspacesick all the wayÄand I wouldn’t risk anything like that again. I had laid groundwork for this by pecking at my food at dinner.

The show was amateurish but jollyÄsome skits but mostly group singing: “Tie Me Kangaroo Down,” “Waltzing Matilda,” “Botany Bay,” and, for an encore, “The Walloping Window Blind.” I enjoyed it but would have thought nothing of it were it not for a man in the second row of the group singers, a man who looked familiar.

I looked at him and thought: Friday, have you become the sort of careless, sloppy slitch who can’t remember whether she’s slept with a man or not?

He reminded me of Professor Federico Farnese. But this man was wearing a full beard, whereas Freddie had been smoothshavenÄwhich proves nothing as there had been time enough to grow a beard and almost all men get overtaken by the beard mania one time or another. But it did make it impossible for me to be certain by looking at him. This man never sang a solo, so voice did not help.