Heinlein, Robert A – Friday

Body odorÄat a range of thirty meters no way to sort it out from dozens of others.

I was greatly tempted not to be a ladyÄstand up, walk straight across the dance floor, confront him: “Are you Freddie? Didn’t you take me to bed in Auckland last May?”

What if he says no?

I’m a coward. What I did do was tell the Captain that I thought I had spotted an old acquaintance from Sydney among the migrants and how could I check? That resulted in my writing “Federico Farnese” on a program and the Captain passed it to the purser, who passed it to one of his assistants, who went away and came back soon with a report that there were several Eyetalian names among the migrants but no name, Eyetalian or otherwise, even vaguely like “Farnese.”

I thanked him and thanked the purser and thanked the CaptainÄ and thought about asking for a check on “Tormey” and “Perreault,” but decided that it was damfoolishness; I certainly had not seen Betty or JanetÄand they didn’t grow beards. I had seen a face behind a full beaverÄmeaning I hadn’t seen it. Put a full beard on a man and all you see is the shredded wheat.

I decided that all the old wives’ tales about pregnant women were probably true.

XXXII

It was two hours past midnight, ship’s time. Breakout into normal space had taken place on time, about eleven in the morning, and the figures had been so good that the Forward was expected to achieve stationary orbit around Botany Bay at oh-seven-forty-two, several hours better than had been estimated before breakout. I was not pleased because an early morning landing-boat departure increased the hazard (I judged) that people might be prowling around the corridors in the still hours of the night.

No choice. It was rushing at me, no second chance. I finished last-minute adjustments, kissed Tilly good-bye, cautioned her with a finger to make no noise, and let myself out the door of cabin BB.

I had to go far aft and down three decks. Twice I slowed down to

avoid night watchmen making their rounds. Once I ducked through

a transverse passage to avoid a passenger, continued aft to the next

passageway across the ship, then went back to starboard. Eventually

I reached the short, dead-end corridor that led to the passenger airlock door for the starboard landing boat.

I found Mac-Pete-Percival waiting there.

I moved quickly to him, smiling, put a finger to my lips for silence, and clipped him under the ear.

I eased him to the deck, pulled him out of my way, and got to work on that combination lockÄ

Äand discovered that it was almost impossible to read the marks

on the dial, even with my enhanced night-sight. There was nothing but night-lights in the corridors and this short dead end had none of its own. Twice I muffed the combination.

I stopped and thought about it. Go back to cabin BB for a torchlight? I had none there, but perhaps Tilly had one. If she did not, should I wait until morning lights were turned on? That would be cutting it too fine; people would be stirring. But did I have a choice?

I checked PeteÄstill out but his heart was strong . . . and lucky for you, Pete; had I been fully triggered, you would be dead. I searched him.

I found, with no surprise, a pencil light on himÄhis job (tailing me) could need a torchlight, whereas Miss Rich Bitch does not bother with such things.

A few seconds later I had the door open.

I dragged Pete through, closed and locked the door, spinning the wheel both clockwise and counterclockwise. I turned back, noted that Pete’s eyelids moved a touchÄclipped him again.

There followed a bloody awkward chore. Pete masses about eighty-five kilos, not gross for a man. But it’s twenty-five kilos more than I do and he’s much bigger. I knew from Tom that the engineers were holding the artificial gravity at 0.97 gee to match Botany Bay. At that moment I could have wished for free fall or antigrav gear as I could not leave Pete behind, dead or alive.