FM Busby Long View 1 Star Rebel

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She began to shake her head. "Oh, no, sir. I-"
Softly but with emphasis, Tregare said, "Don't misunderstand, Dolan. This is a
\inice\i party.
It may get a little loud, I wouldn't be surprised, but perfectly respectable,
all the way."
"But I haven't eaten yet."
"The First has laid on a fine spread. Come on." For a moment she still pulled
away; then she looked at him eye-to-eye and finally nodded.
In a group, Dolan was more fun. When other ratings whooped greetings to her,
she smiled and waved back. She ate with enthusiasm, drank moderately, and
danced with a lot more skill than Bran
Tregare could muster. He tried, though.
As he had predicted to Dolan, the group did get steadily louder. Nothing
raucous, no ill-
feeling, just louder talk and the occasional burst of song. Yes, it was
"getting a little drunk, out." Not Bran, though. Back at the Slaughterhouse
he'd learned to pace his drinks, to get level and stay there, and now he did
just that. Here and there he heard talk that sounded decidedly indiscreet; he
hoped no dogs were present, or for that matter, bugs.
As he and Phyls Dolan finished a dance, her coiled hair beginning to sag loose
and she trying to push it back into place, their host called to him. "Tregare?
Over here."
Patting Dolans hand, Bran said, "I'll be right back," and went to Monteffial.
The First had a load, all right; he stood
\b134\b with one hand braced on a chair back. "Tregare? Gotta close down.
Question first, though. In here." He moved, and Bran followed, to the
side-cubby that held the bed. It wasn't closed off, exactly, but the alcove
gave privacy for talk.
As Monteffial plunked down, heavily, to sit on the bed, Tregare asked,
"Questions? At this time of the party?"
A nod. "Just one. Escape. How you feel about it?"
"That's not a good question to ask, out loud. Is it?"
"So don't answer now. Think about it, though. Because when it gets asked big,
no \itime\i to think. Unnerstan'?"
"Maybe. And maybe thanks, too." Monteffial was leaning back, close to falling
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asleep. Bran said, "You need any help?"
Eyes half-closed, the First murmured, "Send her in here. Lady with me, you
know. Close the pajty down first. Her, I mean. She'll do it. Just tell her,
all right?"
"Sure. Right away. And thanks for the party, Leon."
He went back to the main group. Already it had thinned out some. The tall,
dark-haired First rating-the one Bran figured to be with Monteffial-sat alone.
He went over to her. "Leon asked you to close the party down. Then he'd like
to see you."
She chuckled. "I hope he's still awake to do that."
"If you hurry it up, he will be." He gave her a wink for her smile and turned
to find Phyls
Dolan. The task wasn't hard; he heard a squeal and there she was, brushing
liquid off her blouse.
He went to her. "Everything all right?"
Someone else was brushing at her also, trying to apologize. Dolan said, "Never
mind, Jennings. I
bumped into you as much as you bumped into me and the other moved away, so
Tregare guessed he knew what happened."
He said to her, "The First wants the party cleared now. I expect we ought to
set a good example.
All right?"
She shrugged; her hair sagged farther. "I suppose so. I did want one more
drink, but Jennings and I collided, so-well, if the party's closing, I can do
without."
"Maybe, maybe not." One hand gentle at her arm, he moved them through the
latestayers toward the
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ong%20View%2001%20-%20Star%20Rebel%20v1.0.txt door. Out in the corridor, he
said, "I offered you a drink once. The offers still good."
For a moment she froze in place, then moved again, the two of them out of step
now. \i"Just\i a drink, you said, though." He nodded, and she caught step with
him. "All right."
Down the hall; then at the door he reached in to put the lights on and let her
enter ahead of him. "Small place, isn't it?"
\b135\b he said, and started over toward his minimal bar setup to mix her the
drink. Her hand grasped his shoulder; he turned to face her. She was shaking
her hair loose; the tumbled reddish mass fell to hang nearly at her waistline.
Her face held no expression at all, as she moved, facing him but not quite
touching.
Throat tight, he said, "Look; I told you. You can have the drink, Dolan. You
don't have to do
\ianything."\i "I know." Now she smiled. "Maybe that's why I want to."
It was, for Tregare, a great trip, the short haul from Tweedle over to its
twin Twaddle, to pick up cargo. And then another relatively brief jump to the
Penfoyle Gate. As Tregare had told Phyls
Dolan at their first meeting, they couldn't move in together on a ship
commanded by Rigueres, but sure as hell they could enjoy time together,
whenever neither was on watch duty.
It wasn't that Bran let the joys of friendly love get in the way of his
shipside training-nor did Phyls Dolan. Merely, they made the most of what
spare time the ship's schedules allowed them. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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