In that supremely intimate fusion, that ultimate union of line
and plane and cellule, each mind was revealed completely to the
other; a revealment which no outsider should expect to share.
Finally, after neither ever knew how long, they released each
other and each put up, automatically, a solid block.
‘I don’t know about you, Storm,’ Joan said then, ‘but I’ve had just about all I can take. I’m going to bed and sleep for one solid week.’
‘You and me both,’ Storm agreed, ungrammatically, but feelingly. ‘Good night, sweetheart … and this had all better be strictly hush-hush, don’t you think?’ ‘I do think,’ she assured him. ‘Can’t you just imagine the
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field-day the psychs would have, taking us apart?’
In view of the above, it might be assumed that the parting was immediate, positive, and undemonstrative; but such was not exactly the case. But they did finally separate, and each slept soundly and long.
And fairly early the next morning—before either of them got up, at least—Cloud sent Joan a thought.
‘Awake, dear?’
‘Uh-huh. Just. ‘Morning, Storm.’
‘I’ve got some news for you, Joanie. My brain is firing on ten times as many barrels as I ever thought it had, and I don’t know what half of ’em are doing. Among other things, you made what I think is probably a top-bracket perceiver out of me.’
‘So? Well, don’t peek at me, please … but why should I say that, after having studied in Rigel Four for two years? Women are funny, I guess. But, for your information, I have just extracted the ninth root of an eighteen-digit number, in no time at all and to the last significant decimal place, and I know the answer is right. How do you like them potatoes, Buster?’
‘Nice. We really absorbed each other’s stuff, didn’t we? But how about joining me in person for a soupcon of ham and eggs?’
‘That’s a thought, my thoughtful friend; a cogent and right knightly thought. I’ll be with you in three jerks and a wiggle.’ And she was.
Just as they finished eating, Vesta breezed in. ‘Well, you two deep-sleepers finally crawled out of your sacks, did you? It is confusing, though, that ship’s time never agrees with planetary time. But I live here, you know, in this city you call “Vegiaton”, so I went to bed at noon yesterday and I’ve got over half a day’s work done already. I saw my folks and bought half of my uncle’s bank and made the no-gambling declaration and I want to ask you both something. After the Grand Uproar here at the ‘port in your honor, will you two and Helen and Joe and Bob and Barbara come with me to a little dance some of my friends are having? You’ve been zo good to me, and I want to show you off a little.’
‘We’ll be glad to, Vesta, and thanks a lot,’ Joan said, flashing a thought at Cloud to let her handle this thing her own way, ‘and I imagine the others would be, too, but … well, it’s
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for you, you know, and we might be intruding …’
‘Why, not at all!’ Vesta waved the objection away with an airy flirt of her tail. ‘You’re friends of mine! And everybody’s real friends are always welcome, you know, everywhere. And it’ll be small and quiet; only six or eight hundred are being asked, they say …’ she paused for a moment: ‘… of course, after it gets around that we have you there, a couple of thousand or so strangers will come in too; but they’ll all smell nice, so it’ll be QX.’
‘How do you know what they’ll smell like?’ Cloud asked.
‘Why, they’ll smell like our crowd, of course. If they didn’t they wouldn’t want to come in. It’s QX, then?’
‘For us two, yes; but of course we can’t speak for the others.’
‘Thanks, you wonderful people; I’ll go ask them right now.’
‘Joan, have you blown your stack completely?’ Cloud demanded. ‘Small—quiet—six or eight hundred invited—a couple of thousand or so gate-crashers—what do you want to go to a brawl like that for?’
‘The chance is too good to miss—it’s priceless …’ She paused, then added, obliquely: ‘Storm, have you any idea at all of what Vesta thinks of you? You haven’t snooped, I’m sure.’
‘No, and I don’t intend to.’
‘Maybe you ought to,’ Joan snickered a little, ‘except that it would inflate your ego too much. It’s hard to describe. It’s not exactly love—and not exactly worship, either god-worship or hero-worship. It isn’t exactly adoration, but it’s very much stronger than mere admiration. A mixture of all these, perhaps, and half a dozen others, coupled with a simply unbelievable amount of pride that you are her friend. It’s a peculiarly Vegian thing, that Tellurians simply do not feel. But here’s why I’m so enthused. It has been over twenty years since any non-Vegian has attended one of these uniquely Vegian parties except as an outsider, and a Vegian party with outsiders looking on isn’t a Vegian party at all. But we Storm, will be going as insiders!’
‘Are you sure of that?’
‘Positive. Oh, I know it isn’t us she wants, but you; but that won’t make any difference. As Vesta’s friend—”friend” in this case having a very special meaning—you’re in the center of the inner circle. As friends of yours, the rest of us are in, too. Not in the inner circle, perhaps, but well inside the outside circle, at least. See?’
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‘Dimly. “A friend of a friend of a friend of a very good friend of mine,” eh? I’ve heard that ditty, but I never thought it meant anything.’
‘It does here. We’re going to have a time. See you in about an hour?’
‘Just about. I’ve got to check with Nordquist.’
‘Here I am, Storm,’ the Lensman’s thought came in. Then, as Cloud went toward his quarters, it went on: ‘Just want to tell you we won’t have anything for you to do here. This is going to be a straight combing job.’
‘That won’t be too tough, will it? A Tellurian, sixty, tall, thin, grave, distinguished-looking … or maybe …’
‘Exactly. You’re getting the idea. Cosmeticians and plastic surgery. He could look like a Crevenian, or thirty years old and two hundred pounds and slouchy. He could look like anything. He undoubtedly has a background so perfectly established that fifteen thoroughly honest Vegians would swear by eleven of their gods that he hasn’t left his home town for ten years. So every intelligent being on Vegia who hasn’t got a live tail, with blood circulating in it, is going under the Lens and through the wringer if we have to keep Vegia in quarantine for a solid year. He is not going to get away from us this time.’
‘I’m betting on you, Nordquist. Clear ether!’
The Lensman signed off and Cloud, at the end of the specified hour, undressed and redressed and went to the computer room. All the others except Joe were already there.
‘Hi, peoples!’ Cloud called; then did a double-take. ‘Wow! And likewise, Yipes! How come the tri-di outfits didn’t all collapse, Joan, when those two spectaculars took up cybernetics?’
‘I’ll never know, Storm.’ Joan shook her head wonderingly, then went on via thought; and Cloud felt her pang of sheer jealousy. ‘Why is it that big girls are always so much more beautiful than little ones? And the more clothes they take off the better they look? It simply isn’t fair!’
Cloud’s mind reached out and meshed with hers. ‘Sure it is, sweetheart. They’re beauties; you can’t take that away from them …’
And beauties they certainly were. Helen, as has been said, was lissom and dark. Her hair was black, her eyes a midnight blue, her skin a deep, golden brown. Barbara, not quite as tall —five feet seven, perhaps—was equally beautifully propor-
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tioned, and even more striking-looking. Her skin was tanned ivory, her eyes were gray, her hair was a shoulder-length, carefully-careless mass of gleaming, flowing, wavy silver.
‘… they’ve got a lot of stuff: but believe me, there are several grand lots of stuff they haven’t got, too. I wouldn’t trade half of you for either of them—or both of them together.’
‘I believe that—at least, about both of them,’ Joan giggled mentally, ‘but how many men …’ ‘Well, how many men do you want?’ Cloud interrupted. ‘Touche, Storm … but do you really …’ What would have developed into a scene of purely mental lovemaking was put to an end by the arrival of Joe Mackay, who also paused and made appropriate noises of appreciation.
‘But there’s one thing I don’t quite like about this deal,’ he said finally. ‘I’m not too easy in my mind about making love to a moll who is packing a Mark Twenty Eight DeLameter. The darn thing might go off.’
‘Keep your distance, then, Lieutenant Mackay!’ Helen laughed. ‘Well, are we ready?’