“Hi,” the redhead called, a shade cautiously.
Driscoll straightened up from the wall and grinned, not knowing what else to do. “Well… hi,” he returned3
At once their faces split into broad smiles, and they walked over. The redhead shook his hand warmly. “I see you’ve already met Wellington. I’m Shirley. This is my daughter, Ci.”
“She’s your daughter?” Driscoll blinked. “Say, I guess that’s… very nice.”
Ci repeated the performance. “Who are you?” she asked him.
“Me? Oh . . . name’s Driscoll–Tony Driscoll.” He licked his lips while he searched for a follow-up. “I guess
me and Wellington are guarding the corridor.””Who from?’-‘ Ci asked.
“A good question,” Wellington commented.
“You’re the first Terran we’ve talked to,” Shirley said. She nodded her head to indicate the direction they had come from. “We’ve got a class of kids back there who are bubbling over with curiosity. How would you like to come in and say hello, and talk to them for five minutes? They’d love it.”
“What?’ ‘Driscoll stared at them aghast. “I’ve never talked to classes of people. I wouldn’t know how to start.” “A good time to start practicing then,” Ci suggested. He swallowed hard and shook his head. “I have to stay here. This conversation is enough to get me shot as it is.” Ci shrugged but seemed content not to make any more of it. “Are you two, er… teachers here or something. like that?” Driscoll asked.
“Sometimes,” Shirley answered. “Ci teaches English mainly, but mostly down on the surface. That is, when she’s not working with electronics or installing plant wiring underground somewhere. I’m not all that technical. I grow olives and vines out on the Peninsula, and design interiors. That’s what brought me up here–Clem wants the crew quarters and mess deck refitted and decorated. But yes, I teach tailoring sometimes, but not a lot.”
“I meant as a regular job,” Driscoll said. “What do you do basically?”
“All of them.” Shirley sounded mildly surprised. “What do you mean by ‘basically’?”
‘They do the same thing all the time, from when they quit school to when they retire,” Ci reminded her mother.
“Oh yes, of course.” Shirley nodded. “That sounds pretty awful. Still, it’s their business.”
“What do you do best?” Ci asked him. “I mean . . . apart from holding people’s walls up for them. That can’t be much of a life.”
Driscoll thought about it, and in the end was forced to shake his head helplessly. “Not a lot that you’d be interested in, I guess,” he confessed.
“Everybody’s got something,” Shirley insisted. “What do you like doing?”
“You really wanna know?” An intense note had come suddenly into Driscoll’s voice.
“Hey, back off, soldier,” Ci said suspiciously. “We’re still strangers. Later, who knows? Give it time.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Driscoll protested, feeling embar-
rassed. “If you must know, I like working cards.” “You mean tricks?” Shirley seemed interested. “I can do tricks, sure.” “Are you good?”
“The best. I can make ’em stand up and talk.”
“You’d better mean it,” Shirley warned. “There’s nothing worse than trying to spend money you don’t have. It’s like stealing from people.’
Driscoll didn’t follow what she meant, so he ignored it. “I mean it,” he told her.
Shirley turned to look at Ci. “Say, wouldn’t he be great to have at our next party? I love things like that.” She looked at Driscoll again. “When are you coming down to Chiron?”
“I don’t know yet. We haven’t heard anything.’
“Well, give us a call when you do, and we’ll fix something up. I live in Franklin, so there shouldn’t be too much of a problem. That’s where we usually get together.”
“Sounds good,” Driscoll said. “I can’t make any promises fight now though. Everything depends on how things go. If things work out okay, how would I find the place?”
“Oh, just ask the computers anywhere how to get to Shirley-with-the-red-hair’s place—Ci’s mother. They’ll take care of you.”
“So maybe we’ll see you down there sometime,” Ci said.
“Well . . . yeah. Who knows? He was about to say something more when Wellington interrupted.
“Two of your officers are heading this way. I thought you ought to know.”