Part 16 (2/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration]
”Yes, I guess you do. One of the d.a.m.ned few who do. But even if you personally are willing to give us ten years, how in h.e.l.l do you think you can swing it? How about the Navy--the Stretts--even the Board?”
”They're my business, Bill, not yours. However, to give you a little boost, I'll tell you. With the Navy, I'll give 'em the Fuel Bin if I have to. The Omans have been taking care of the Stretts for twenty-seven hundred centuries, so I'm not the least bit worried about their ability to keep on doing it for ten years more. And if the Board--or anybody else--sticks their runny little noses into Project Theta Orionis I'll slap a quarantine onto both these solar systems that a microbe couldn't get through!”
”You'd go _that_ far? Why, you'd be ...”
”Do you think I wouldn't?” Hilton snapped. ”Look at me, Junior!” Eyes locked and held. ”Do you think, for one minute, that I'll let anybody on all of G.o.d's worlds pull _me_ off of this job or interfere with my handling of it unless and until I'm d.a.m.ned positively certain that we can't handle it?”
Karns relaxed visibly; the lines of strain eased. ”Putting it in those words makes me feel better. I _will_ sleep to-night--and without any pills, either.”
”Sure you will. One more thought. We all put in more than ten years getting our Terran educations, and an Oman education is a lot tougher.”
Really smiling for the first time in weeks, Karns left the office and Hilton glanced again at his clock.
Pretty late now to see Teddy ... besides, he'd better not. She was probably keyed up about as high as Bill was, and in no shape to do the kind of thinking he wanted of her on this stuff. Better wait a couple of days.
On the following morning, before breakfast, Theodora was waiting for him outside the mess-hall.
”Good morning, Jarve,” she caroled. Reaching up, she took him by both ears, pulled his head down and kissed him. As soon as he perceived her intent, he cooperated enthusiastically. ”What _did_ you do to Bill?”
”Oh, you don't love me for myself alone, then, but just on account of _that_ big jerk?”
”That's right.” Her artist's-model face, startlingly beautiful now, fairly glowed.
Just then Temple Bells strolled up to them. ”Morning, you two lovely people.” She hugged Hilton's arm as usual. ”Shame on you, Teddy. But I wish _I_ had the nerve to kiss him like that.”
”Nerve? You?” Teddy laughed as Hilton picked Temple up and kissed her in exactly the same fas.h.i.+on--he hoped!--as he had just kissed Teddy.
”You've got more nerve than an aching tooth. But as Jarve would say it, 'scat, kitten'. We're having breakfast _a la twosome_. We've got things to talk about.”
”All right for _you_,” Temple said darkly, although her dazzling smile belied her tone. That first kiss, casual-seeming as it had been, had carried vastly more freight than any observer could perceive. ”I'll hunt Bill up and make pa.s.ses at him, see if I don't. _That'll_ learn ya!”
Theodora and Hilton did have their breakfast _a deux_--but she did not realize until afterward that he had not answered her question as to what he had done to her Bill.
As has been said, Hilton had made it a prime factor of his job to become thoroughly well acquainted with every member of his staff. He had studied them _en ma.s.se_, in groups and singly. He had never, however, cornered Theodora Blake for individual study. Considering the power and the quality of her mind, and the field which was her specialty, it had not been necessary.
Thus it was with no ulterior motives at all that, three evenings later, he walked her cubby-hole office and tossed the stapled papers onto her desk. ”Free for a couple of minutes, Teddy? I've got troubles.”
”I'll say you have.” Her lovely lips curled into an expression he had never before seen her wear--a veritable sneer. ”But these are not them.”
She tossed the papers into a drawer and stuck out her chin. Her face turned as hard as such a beautiful face could. Her eyes dug steadily into his.
Hilton--inwardly--flinched. His mind flashed backward. She too had been working under stress, of course; but that wasn't enough. What could he have _possibly_ done to put Teddy Blake, of all people, onto such a warpath as this?
”I've been wondering when you were going to try to put _me_ through your wringer,” she went on, in the same cold, hard voice, ”and I've been waiting to tell you something. You have wrapped all the other women around your fingers like so many rings--and what a _sickening_ exhibition that has been!--but you are not going to make either a ring or a lap-dog out of me.”
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