Part 5 (1/2)
”That isn't true, but go ahead.”
”You're a powerhouse. A tightly organized, thoroughly integrated, smoothly functioning, beautifully camouflaged Juggernaut. A reasonable facsimile of an irresistible force.”
”My G.o.d, Jarvis!” That had gone deep.
”Let me finish my a.n.a.lysis. You aren't head of your department because you don't want to be. You fooled the top psychs of the Board. You've been running ninety per cent submerged because you can work better that way and there's no glory-hound blood in you.”
She stared at him, licking her lips. ”I knew your mind was a razor, but I didn't know it was a diamond drill, too. That seals your doom, boss, unless ... no, you can't _possibly_ know why I'm here.”
”Why, of course I do.”
”You just think you do. You see, I've been in love with you ever since, as a gangling, bony, k.n.o.bby-kneed kid, I listened to your first doctorate disputation. Ever since then, my purpose in life has been to land you.”
III
”But listen!” he exclaimed. ”I _can't_, even if I want....”
”Of course you can't.” Pure deviltry danced in her eyes. ”You're the Director. It wouldn't be proper. But it's Standard Operating Procedure for simple, innocent, unsophisticated little country girls like me to go completely overboard for the boss.”
”But you can't--you _mustn't_!” he protested in panic.
Temple Bells was getting plenty of revenge for the shocks he had given her. ”I can't? Watch me!” She grinned up at him, her eyes still dancing.
”Every chance I get, I'm going to hug your arm like I did a minute ago.
And you'll take hold of my forearm, like you did! That can be taken, you see, as either: One, a reluctant acceptance of a mildly distasteful but not quite actionable situation, or: Two, a blocking move to keep me from climbing up you like a squirrel!”
”Confound it, Temple, you _can't_ be serious!”
”Can't I?” She laughed gleefully. ”Especially with half a dozen of those other cats watching? Just wait and see, boss!”
Sandra and her two guests came aboard. The natives looked around; the man at the various human men, the woman at each of the human women. The woman remained beside Sandra; the man took his place at Hilton's left, looking up--he was a couple of inches shorter than Hilton's six feet one--with an air of ... of _expectancy_!
”Why this arrangement, Sandy?” Hilton asked.
”Because we're tops. It's your move, Jarve. What's first?”
”Uranexite. Come along, Sport. I'll call you that until ...”
”Laro,” the native said, in a deep resonant ba.s.s voice. He hit himself a blow on the head that would have floored any two ordinary men. ”Sora,”
he announced, striking the alien woman a similar blow.
”Laro and Sora, I would like to have you look at our uranexite, with the idea of refueling our s.h.i.+p. Come with me, please?”
Both nodded and followed him. In the engine room he pointed at the engines, then to the lead-blocked labyrinth leading to the fuel holds.
”Laro, do you understand 'hot'? Radioactive?”
Laro nodded--and started to open the heavy lead door!