“Ouch. More sabotage, maybe?”
“Could be. But maybe worse. After that kark, I called traffic control at the port and asked whatinhell was wrong with WinnipegAuckland satellite bounce? By pulling rank I eventually got the supervisor. He told me to forget about calls that didn’t get through because they had real trouble. All SBs grounded-because two were sabotaged in space. Winnipeg-Buenos Aires Lift Twenty-nine and Vancouver-London One-oh-one.”
“Ian!”
“Total loss, both. No survivors. Pressure fuses, no doubt, as each one blew on leaving atmosphere. Jan, the next time I lift, I’m going to inspect everything myself. Stop the countdown on the most trivial excuse.” He added, “But I can’t guess when that will be. You can’t lift an SB when your comm circuits to reentry port are broken, and the supervisor admitted that they had lost all bounce circuits.” Janet got out of bed, stood up, kissed him. “Now stop worrying! Stop. At once. Of course you will check everything yourself until they catch the saboteurs. But right now you’ll put it out of your mind because you won’t be called to lift until the comm circuits are restored. So declare a holiday. As for Betty and Freddie, it’s a shame we can’t talk to them but they can take care of themselves and you know it. No doubt they are worrying about us and they shouldn’t, either. I’m just glad it happened while you are at home-instead of halfway around the globe. You’re here and you’re safe and that’s all I care about. We’ll just sit here, snug and happy, until this nonsense is over.”
“I’ve got to go to Vancouver.”
“Man o’ mine, you don’t ‘got’ to do anything, save pay taxes and die. They won’t be putting artifacts into the ships when no ships are lifting.”
“Artifacts,” I blurted and regretted it.
Ian seemed to see me for the first time. “Hi, Marj-morning. Nothing you need fret about-and I’m sorry about this hoop-te-do while you’re our guest. The artifacts Jan mentioned aren’t gadgets; they’re alive. Management has this wild notion that a living artifact designed for piloting can do a better job than a man can do. I’m shop steward for the Winnipeg Section so I’ve got to go fight it. Management-Guild meeting in Vancouver tomorrow.”
“Ian,” Jan said, “phone the General Secretary. It’s silly to go to Vancouver without checking first.”
“Okay, okay.”
“But don’t just ask. Urge the SecGen to pressure management to postpone the meeting until the emergency is over. I want you to stay right here and keep me safe from harm.”
“Or vice versa.”
“Or vice versa,” she agreed. “But I’ll faint in your arms if necessary. What would you like for breakfast? Don’t make it too complex or I’ll invoke your standing commitment.”
I wasn’t really listening as the word artifact had triggered me. I had been thinking of Ian-of all of them, really, here and Down Under-as being so civilized and sophisticated that they would regard my sort as just as good as humans.
And now I hear that Ian is committed to representing his guild in a labor-management fight to keep my sort from competing with humans.
(What would you have us do, Ian? Cut our throats? We didn’t ask to be produced any more than you asked to be born. We may not be human but we share the age-old fate of humans; we are strangers in a world we never made.)
“Hungry, Marj?”
“Uh, sorry, I was woolgathering. What did you say, Jan?”
“I asked what you wanted for breakfast, dear.”
“Uh, doesn’t matter; I eat anything that is standing still or even moving slowly. May I come with you and help? Please?”
“I was hoping you would offer. Because Ian isn’t much use in a kitchen despite his commitment.”
“I’m a damned good cook!”
“Yes, dear. Ian gave me a commitment in writing that he would always cook any meal if I so requested. And he does; he hasn’t tried to slide out of it. But I have to be just awfully hungry to invoke it.”
“Marj, don’t listen to her.”
I still don’t know whether or not Ian can cook, but Janet certainly can (and so can Georges, as I learned later). Janet served us-with help around the edges from me-with light and fluffy mild Cheddar omelettes surrounded by thin, tender pancakes rolled up Continental style with powdered sugar and jam, and garnished with well drained bacon. Plus orange juice from freshly squeezed oranges-hand-squeezed, not ground to a pulp by machinery. Plus drip coffee made from freshly ground beans.