Mary went on to make a full report to the Resident Secretary; Lazarus left her on business of his own. He retraced his steps, looking for a man who was not too busy to help him; the guards at the pool entrance were the first he found. “Service-” be began.
“Service to you,” one of them answered. “Looking for someone?” He glanced curiously at Long’s almost complete nakedness, glanced away again-how anybody dressed, or did not dress, was a private matter.
“Sort of,” admitted Lazarus. “Say, Bud, do you know of anyone around here who would lend me a kilt?”
“You’re looking at one,” the guard answered pleasantly. “Take over, Dick-back in a minute.” He led Lazarus to bachelors’ quarters, outfitted him, helped him to dry his pouch and contents, and made no comment about the arsenal strapped to his hairy thighs. How elders behaved was no business of his and many of them were even touchier about their privacy than most people. He had seen Aunt Mary Sperling arrive stripped for swimming but had not been surprised as he had heard Ira Barstow briefing Pete for the underwater pickup; that the elder with her chose to take a dip in the lake weighed down by the hardware did surprise him but not enough to make him forget his manners.
“Anything else you need?’ he asked. “Do those shoes fit?
“Well enough. Thanks a lot, Bud.” Lazarus smoothed the borrowed kilt. It was a little too long for him but it comforted him. A loin strap was okay, he supposed-if you were on Venus. But he had never cared much for Venus customs. Damn it, a man liked to be dressed. “I feel better,” he admitted. “Thanks again. By the way, what’s your name?”
“Edmund Hardy, of the Foote Family.”
“That so? What’s your line?”
“Charles Hardy and Evelyn Foote. Edward Hardy-Alice Johnson and Terence Briggs-Eleanor Weatheral. Oliver-”
“That’s enough. I sorta thought so. You’re one of my great-great-grandsons.”
“Why, that’s interesting,” commented Hardy agreeably. “Gives us a sixteenth of kinship, doesn’t it-not counting convergence. May I ask your name?
“Lazarus Long.”
Hardy shook his head. “Some mistake. Not in my line.”
“Try Woodrow Wilson Smith instead. It was the one I started with.”
“Oh, that one! Yes, surely. But I thought you were . . . uh–”
“Dead? Well, I ain’t.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that at all,” Hardy protested, blushing at the blunt Anglo-Saxon monosyllable. He hastily added, “I’m glad to have run across you, Gran’ther. I’ve always wanted to hear the straight of the story about the Families’ Meeting in 2012.”
“That was before you were born, Ed,” Lazarus said gruffly, “and don’t call me ‘Gran’ther.'”
“Sorry, sir-I mean ‘Sorry, Lazarus.’ Is there any other service I can do for you?”
“I shouldn’t have gotten shirty. No-yes, there is, too. Where can I swipe a bite of breakfast? I was sort of rushed this morning.”
“Certainly.” Hardy took him to the bachelors’ pantry, operated the autochef for him, drew coffee for his watch mate and himself, and left. Lazarus consumed his “bite of breakfast”-about three thousand calories of sizzling sausages, eggs, jam, hot breads, coffee with cream, and ancillary items, for he worked on the assumption of always topping off his reserve tanks because you never knew how far you might have to lift before you had another chance to refuel. In due time he sat back, belched, gathered up his dishes and shoved them in the incinerator, then went looking for a newsbox.
He found one in the bachelors’ library, off their lounge. The room was empty save for one man who seemed to be about the same age as that suggested by Lazarus’ appearance. There the resemblance stopped; the stranger was slender, mild in feature, and was topped off by finespun carroty hair quite unlike the grizzled wiry bush topping Lazarus. The stranger was bending over the news receiver with his eyes pressed to the microviewer.
Lazarus cleared his throat loudly and said, “Howdy.”
The man jerked his head up and exclaimed, “Oh! Sorry-I was startled. Do y’ a service?”
“I was looking for the newsbox. Mind if we throw it on the screen?”
“Not at all.” The smaller man stood up, pressed the rewind button, and set the controls for projection. “Any particular subject?”