Part 83 (2/2)
He folded his arms around her then and held her to his breast.
The white antelope skin of the storm-suit was soft, warmed by the living flesh inside, faintly redolent of wax and tanning compound and human sweat. The face that looked down at her was haggard, wet with tears, in need of a shave, the jaw trembling with tension and still scarred on the left side with the psychosomatic stigma of the hook. A face that was almost Marc's.
”He won't let us go,” Diane whispered in terror.
”With Aiken Drum on our side, we can give him a d.a.m.n good run for his money,” Hagen said. ”And if the old wolf starts getting too close to the fleeing sleigh - well, I can always make Marc a present of the other nut. Then he'd have his Mental Man and we'd be free of him for ever.”
She burst into tears, and then she was laughing with him, and then the laughter was smothered in their kisses. He said, ”Come on, babe,” and led her to the starproof shadow of a flowering daphne. After they had coupled they lay on their sides, face to face and body to body, clinging to one another. The turf was dewy and none too soft and a chill breeze stole over the pond, but still they lay together sharing warmth and breath.
”I wish we could have made Mental Man tonight,” he said.
”d.a.m.n that implant.”
”I'll ask Becky Kramer to take it out tomorrow.”
”The kid will be born in the Milieu,” Hagen said, ”or we'll just fly away, babe. The three of us. Okay?”
”Yes.”
They held each other more tightly and let the mental images drift from one mind to the other. Fears. Elizabeth's rea.s.surance.
Dangers. The possible failure of the Guderian Project. Alexis Manion's persistent rea.s.surance last winter in Ocala that they would only find fulfilment in the Unity ... as would their child.
”And it'll be immortal, like you,” Diane whispered tremulously.
”Self-rejuvenating,” Hagen corrected her. ”And in case you're fearful of losing your endearing young charms, let me remind you that some of the time-travellers in our lab went through four refit jobs in tanks back in the Milieu, and would likely have kept up the good work indefinitely if they hadn't hankered for the primitive life here in the Pliocene.”
Diane giggled. ”Can't you imagine the consternation among all those sensible stay-at-home Milieu folks when we pop through the time-gate and tell them we have the grandson of Mental Man in embryo?”
Hagen made an indelicate noise. ”That'll be the first shock.
If this thing works out, we'll be lucky if the whole exile population doesn't come along with us. Cloud and her faerie prince aren't the half of it.”
Diane was quiet for a long moment. ”Hagen-she wouldn't stay, would she? She says she doesn't love Kuhal. She wouldn't be tempted to sacrifice herself for the rest of us, would she?”
”For Papa's sake, you mean? Don't kid yourself! In the first place, you were all too right when you noted that in the Mental Man game, the male of the species has natural advantages over the female. Papa wants me. Why do you think he let Cloud go to Europe with Elaby and the others, but kept me there in Ocala? I'm to take his place.”
”Cloud has the genes,” Diane insisted. ”Marc could use her.”
”She wants Unity more than any of us! Cloud and Elaby were the first ones to be convinced by Alex that rebellion was the better part.”
”But Elaby's dead, Hagen, and Cloud says she'll never fall in love with anyone again and risk the pain-”
”My cerebral sister wouldn't know love if it bit her on the ankle. No matter what she says, she and Kuhal will follow right along with the rest of us ... and if you think our offspring will rock the Milieu, what about a Tanu-Remillard cross?”
”We Manions have our hidden marvels, too. Let me show you one.”
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