Part 3 (1/2)

Does not, Janja!” he snapped, and he looked ready to bite. ”To begin again then,” she said relentlessly, ”TGO does just what it wants, controlled only by itself. TGO murders . . . a.s.sa.s.sinate is just a nice word, invented to cover a specific type of murder; the dead person was not just anybody but was important, so it was 'a.s.sa.s.sinated' rather than just 'murdered' like anyone else.” It was his turn to give the finger-flip that reminded her of his lessons against stating the obvious. He said nothing. He merely listened.

Meeting her eyes directly all the while. ”No matter what the goal, the accomplishment, that isn't Aristotle's white behavior-it's black-for-bad. Not good, but evil. Gray is white with black mixed into it- and black is stronger than white.” He yawned elaborately. ”Ah, philosophy. An ignorant ancient who spoke for the teensy little part of the little 194 world he lived on. Pure black and white just can't exist, Janja, in Aristotelean terms. Tell that to the Director!” ”How could I possibly tell that to the Director? I have no notion who he is-I wonder if you have.” ”Oh, you think it's a he?” ”Women would be even less direct,” Janja said, almost smiling. Rattan tipped back his head but did not laugh. He looked down his nose at her. It was a long and broad-nostriled nose, quite straight. ”I am the Director of TGO.” Janja snorted. ”Oh, of course you are! And you go about the planets, alone!

Recruiting ex-slaves from undeveloped and 'Protected' worlds. In disguise.

Director Hroon al-Rasheed.” He shrugged. ”We've already established that you can't trust me. All right then, the Director is s.h.i.+eda of Balto-” ”That belly-heavy greasewad of a greaseheaded pirate? Nonsense!” ”Oh. All right then, we have reincarnated Mockiavely and enriched his education. Or I am the Director. Or I am not and furthermore do not know who she is, or he is a man named-” He waved a hand in groping spirals. ”Oh, Brahmin Allahme.” Rattan leaned forward, shoulders bunching to threaten the brown jacket with severe strain or worse, his elbows on his desk. His eyes were drills, darkly piercing her. His hands were odd, large and hairy, like those of Jonuta. Jonuta, whom she barely remembered. Who, she had proven to herself, was not dead. ”You are one of the Director's people, Janja. You are a part of the organization. You are TGO, Janja-a gray woman, if you must!” And he grinned. ”You and TGO are naturally congruent organisms. I am merely the necessary . . . gardener, who spliced your shoot to the main trunk.” Silence boded between them. She knew, staring into the 195 dark eyes that stared back, that he had a great deal of respect for her, and her ability and courage, her single-minded pursuit of purpose. No matter whether it was the main purpose-getting Jonuta and then the man Ratran had told her was behind him (but Ratran lied as a matter of course), or the secondary goals that were preparing her. Learning polite society dances as well as wilder, older ones. Backgrounding herself in the social studies, galacto-politics. Even learning the various ”proper ways” to hold eating utensils and to drink on various planets, for Ratran Yao a.s.sured her that he could pa.s.s as native on many, and she had decided to believe that. He wants me, too, she reflected, moving her back a little away from the chair and putting back her shoulders to jut the skimpily bra-”clad” cones of her warheads. He wants to tryst with me-no no, he wants to slice! If we ever do though, won't it be more an act of hate than of love? -Violence? In that case why shouldn't we-who has better reason? Each of us hates, pa.s.sionately, others and other things. And each of us hates itself a bit, I think. And each other too, for being part of something that we both know is very very gray, despite its n.o.ble purpose and great accomplishments. Perhaps he told the truth. Perhaps that greasy child-lover of a pirate s.h.i.+eda is chief of TGO.

What could be more . . . fitting! More gray! Poetic justice, Rat would call it. Rat! I even think of him so. Each of us highly intelligent, competent-for I'm as sure I am as he is of himself, field-testing or not. I handled my own ”field-testing” before I was brought here! (Wherever here is.) Each of us devoted and dedicated to what we think and know is good . . . and yet disliking ourselves for being part of such an organization. An any-means-is-justified-if-it-accomplishes-the-Good-goal organization! And . .

. And I suppose that both Rat and I think highly enough of one another so that each of us thinks the other should be doing something else! 196 That was a revelation, and it made Janja blink and show her surprise. ”You're staring,”

Ratran said. ”No,” Janja said without looking away, ”you're staring. I'm merely looking back.” His teeth flashed. ”Very good! A silent stare is always disconcerting! Stare long enough and the other person will just have to say something, because few people can bear silence. After the kind of remark you just made he's even more disconcerted.” She flipped her fingers. ”I've been well-trained.” ”Of course,” her beaming mentor said. ”And of course you do understand that I am immune.” ”Oh, do I? Listen, when you said 'Leave here and try to tell someone what you know,' or however that went-what did you mean, Rat?” He showed her the trace of a frown, and she saw the faint movement of his arm that meant his fingers were doing something under the desk. They heard the yatayata squeakyatata noise, then her voice, followed by a little more playback noise and then his voice. Quiet and firm, in the middle tones: ”Leave here. Try to tell someone who you are, what you are, what we are.” He brought his hand back into sight again. ”Rat? Why are you recording us?” ”I'm in love with your voice.” ”Ha,” she p.r.o.nounced elaborately, ”ha. My question?” ”One of the very first things we did was put into your brain the same little addition I have in mine. Everyone you've seen here has the same implant. You can't betray the organization. If you try you will feel both dizzy and sick. If you don't stop, or if you try again, you will lose the use of your larynx. If you try again, you will go to the nearest s.p.a.ceport and come here.” She was on her feet, eyes flas.h.i.+ng, her face twisted. ”You . . . creature! You Monster! You tricked me into 197 agreeing to join you-and now you leave me nothing else!

What about after-after him?” Ratran sighed and leaned back. ”We will worry about that when that time comes, Janja.” ”Will that time come?” ”Definitely.

That is, unless you just fail. It will be up to you, and you will have the opportunity.” She spun, stiffly. On the ball of her foot because last time she had tried spinning on her heel she had nearly fallen. That was just for books.

Stalking toward the door, she froze abruptly and looked back over her shoulder. ”Wait a min-what you said sounds a lot more like posthypnotic condition and command than an implant.” He waved a hand. ”Well . . . whatever it is. You know how I lie.” ”Yes I do,” she said tightly, and went on to the door. It wheeped open; she turned back. ”Wait a minute again. When you say 'here'-leave here. I have seen nothing but steel walls without windows, and people who are a part of the organization. Where is here?” ”Don't you know?” ”Of course I don't know.” He spread his hands. ”Where else?” ”Rat?” She put her head on one side. ”Not-Home-world? Urth?” ”Where else?” Janja stalked out, stiff-backed. He watched the tight cranking of her b.u.t.tocks with high interest. The door wheeped shut. He sat back and reached under his desk to play back their conversation, as well as to actuate the hidden wallscreen that showed him the world outside. He squinted a little against the light of both suns 16 ... for what a man says, he does not necessarily believe.

-Aristotle, Metaphysics ”You slime!” Janja shouted, her knuckles white-planted on his desk, her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s heaving and leaping. (Pale blue, the left; and the aureole of each was a black that shone as if burnished. Left their own color, her nipples looked both dramatic and tiny.) ”You just had to-you slime, Rat!” Ratran Yao looked mildly up at her. He dropped his large innocently staring eyes to gaze at her tremulous b.r.e.a.s.t.s, looked again into her face. ”If you carried that blue coloring up a bit higher, those warheads might look a bit bigger,” he said in a calm voice that was disgustingly sweet. Her face went uglier and she raised a hand from his desk. He saw the fingers leap out of the fist, stiffening, and his hand shot out to close on her wrist like a gravitic clarnp. He rose slowly, squeezing and ignoring her ”uh!”, edging out from behind the desk. Her wide eyes fixed on his, she shot out her left hand.

Thumb extended, it raced toward his head. His other arm seemed to rise absent-mindedly, carelessly. It snapped at the last moment so that its edge rushed to strike her wrist. Her hand quivered and limpened, fingers dangling.

Her arm dropped. He kept squeezing. 198 199 Slowly, her eyes glaring and her face working, her entire body trembling with effort, she was forced to her knees. ”Now that's provocative,” he said, and kicked her. Pain shrieked into her body and she doubled over. Twisting, eyes -bulging. He let go her wrist and she clutched herself, slumping to the floor and curling. Trying to ball up to contain herself and shut out the pain. ”I don't give a pink-warted vug what you call me, Janja. But don't try to attack me. You'll never be trained that well, and besides I can't be sure I'll remember to hold back. I just managed to catch myself before I broke both your arms. Why are you bare-tiddied?” ”You . . . know,” she gasped, without looking up. ”I've had to wear nothing but paint for two days, calling attention to my s.e.x. To make sure I don't suffer from the weakness of modesty.” ”Oh. Hardly necessary, hmm? Now why all the screaming? Get up. Here.” She looked up. He was extending a hand. She considered, looking up the arm to his impa.s.sive face, the big dark eyes that held neither anger nor sympathy. How well the b.a.s.t.a.r.d masked! She knew, with the brain-power she had not revealed to them, that he felt compa.s.sion. Solely in order to punish him then, she ignored his hand and got up. ”You slime, Ratran Yao!” He nodded, circling back to settle into the molded chair behind his desk. ”I got that part, yes. Why am I slimier today than yesterday?” ”I-I-you . . . that slinking crawling Santha ...” ”Ah.” He fitted his ten fingers together, wiggling the thumbs a little. Gazing at them, he said, ”Your female pride told you that your irresistible charm prompted Santharama to tryst you. He just couldn't resist taut-bodied 200 Janjaglaya, hmm? So you condescended to allow him to gratify himself in you.” He looked sharply at her. ”It had nothing to do with the fact that you're a pa.s.sionate woman who needs s.e.x, of course.” He smiled his nastiest little satirical smile. ”Then you found it was one more part of your training, hmm? That you were monitored and holorecorded and Santha made a report. So,” he said, raising his voice with a sigh in it, ”you had to blame someone. And so you decided to come and yell at ole Rat Yao. Because . . . what woman can accept that she isn't as irresistible as she thought. Firm?” She stared at him.

Slowly, naked (aside from the blue and hot-pink paint on her pubis and the red, yellow and blue on her stomach and the blue and black on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s- and the legs vertically wave-striped in blue and green), she sat. He saw not the hint of apprehensive gingerness about the temperature of the chair before his desk. Then she amazed both of them. First the tears were an itch in her eyes, then a lake that blurred her vision, then glistening little streaks down her cheeks. And then a river. Janja's guts quaked as she raised her hands to meet her lowering head and put her knees together and bawled. Ratran Yao stared, dumfounded. He said nothing when she rose and left, still weeping. He paid scant attention to the blue stripe that ran down the line of her backbone to vanish into her rearward cleavage. He was male, and he did note that those taut round cheeks did not jiggle in the slightest. ”Tacky,” he said, activating his computer. ”Give me a vocal on the update on the activities of code-name Cautious.” And he gazed at his desk's top, listening, thinking, doodling. She was back two hours later and he said ”Shut up” to his computer while pressing the WIPE key that cleared the electronic squiggles of his doodling from beneath the sur- 201 face of his desk. Busy or not, he remained constantly available to her, save for the week he had been missing on what TGO called diplomatic mission. (In TGO ”diplomish” was defined as a jaunt to recon, a recruiting trip, a surrept.i.tious meeting with some planetary official, a brief trek out into the darkness with stopper or cardiac gun or monofil wire and/or bomb to effect the end of another dangerous individual, usually a demagogue and only once a brilliant nuclear scientist.) She was just as naked when she returned. (This one was a superb trainee who would not break her training for any reason she could postulate.) It was just that now she had employed symbolism: She had wiped and coated herself with gray, all over except for her hands, which were black. She had left her hair, which looked even whiter against the open-pore paint. Again she sat ungingerly, and this time she crossed her legs. He took his cue from her composed face. ”Afternoon, Janjy.” ”Don't call me that. I have a friend who calls me that.” ”She is well and happy, too. All of them are. I swear.” She looked scornful. ”Did you look at it?” ”Did I look at what, Jannn-jah?” ”The film of Santha and me.” He shook his head. ”Swear?” ”Why should I swear, Janja? You can't trust me anyhow.” ”Please swear, or admit that you did.” ”I didn't. I swear by Aglii and TGO and Musla and your preeety right teety that I did not watch the tape of you and Santharama . . . trysting.” She nodded, showing him a relieved and gratified look. Then, ”Why?” ”Why?” 202 ”Why didn't you watch it, Rat?” He shrugged. ”I've seen plenty of tapes of people slicing. Just nekkid bodies wallowing and scrabbling around. This one isn't my province. Santha and Rukminy are in charge of that aspect of your training. They viewed it.” ”Rukminy says I need more training.” He shrugged. ”What'd you think, that you were the best in the Galaxy?” ”He says I-make love like a child, and change into a tigress at the last min.” ”Hmm! One does wonder just how Rukminy knows about the mating habits of an Urthly cat extinct except on Luhra and Ghanj! Well ... as I said, that's their province. Mine is just to take your abuse. If they say you're a lousy lay ...” He trailed off, waving a hand with a one-sided shrug. Janja showed no anger. She leaned forward, swinging her left leg off the right. ”Rat-don't make me. Not with Santha. You . . . you do it.” They gazed at each other. He forgot to mask his face. She began to rise; he began to rise. They attained their feet, leaning toward each other, stares locked. They met somewhere between his desk and her chair. His hands covered her back over half its length, low, while her arms went around him to hold their bodies tightly together. His tongue seemed intent on exploring her tonsils and she sucked strongly at it, striving to pierce his jacket with her naked gray b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her nails dug into the cloth, in back. ”Why?” he said, perhaps two minutes later, with his hand on the tightest pair of b.u.t.tocks he could remember having felt. ”You know.” She was exploring his neck with her lips. ”No. Tell me.” ”I-can't.” ”It can't be love!” 203 ”No.” ”We'll leave here tonight. I have a diplomish. You'll come along.” ”All right.” ”It can't be love, Janja. I think maybe we even hate each other.” ”I know I hate you,”

she said, kissing the juncture of the powerful ligaments of his neck. ”How could I not? You're a foul trickster and liar.” ”True. You're a burned-out bust of a putative female with eyes like ashes, who lives only for hate and revenge. Everyone's a bleeder, Janja. Scratch your finger and it bleeds and scabs. We can make it heal without a scar. But your mind . . . you've got a nasty scar in there, Janja.” ”Words, words. Must I gag you with breast?” ”Oh, do.” ”How many times have you lied to me?” she whispered, twisting on the semisoft floor of the three-person pinnace skimming through s.p.a.ce on auto. She moved her head and blond hair rose, hesitated, then settled lazily down in .5G. ”Several,” he said, turning so that her lips were at one of the little eruptions of his chest. His own mouth was as full of scarlet-haloed breast as he could stuff it. ”Where's Jonuta?” ”In s.p.a.ce. Heading for Bleak, maybe.

Probably.” ”What rotten taste! What about Whitey?” She trailed her lips down over his stomach, tongue out. ”What about him?” His fingers plucked at the blue petals of her lower lips, opened then, entered on a gentle diplomatic mission. ”Umm! What you told me about him-did he turn me in?” ”Firm,” he said, while her body arced against his hand to impale herself on two fingers, deeply. He opened them 204 inside her, closed them and opened them, as if he were a physician and his hand a speculum. ”Just lick, will you?” ”I don't believe you!” And she bit. He cuffed her with one hand and yanked the other out of her so rapidly that she almost convulsed. She licked lovingly. He stroked her head and her c.l.i.toris. ”You never believe me, with good cause. I'm a professional liar.” ”I hate you, hate you, Rat, you filthy rat! Hate you- get it in me!” He did and instantly she clamped so that he groaned. Nearly collapsing, he hated to begin the movements that might cause her to relax the gebbadzeh muscles she had been trained and conditioned and taught to control so superlatively. Then he did, in the act of their hate, and he moved hard. He slammed and shuttled savagely on her, in her until she screamed out obscenities and writhed beneath him and grasped his b.u.t.tocks and would not let go even after he had yelled and groaned and jerked and quivered, and it was over. ”We've got here so fast,” she said, kneeling before the hotel bed and clutching the counterpane as he stood trembling behind her, grasping her upturned b.u.t.tocks and slamming them together to form a hot tight tunnel around his slicer. ”Is . . . is-is-ummmuhmmmm . . .” And later, when she could talk: ”Is TGO really on Homeworld?” ”Of course it is, naive barbar child! Of course not. Pos. Neg. It's on Aglaya I mean Jarpi.” She knelt up over him, her hair swinging in a cloudy cape over her shoulders to caress the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She pounded his belly with both fists, and found it nearly as hard as his chest. ”You liar! You slimy sisterslicer grat-slicer! Oh Aglii, O G.o.d how I hate you hate you all you do is lie lie lie to me use me train me make me a thing and a liar too-” 205 He slapped her, several times, and then lurched up off the bed, spilling her so that they fell onto the floor and tore at each other in another act of hatelove, fingers gouging and scratching while her legs clamped his back and urged him deeper and deeper and deeper. ”Where have you been?” she asked when he returned, and ”Diplomatic Mission,” he told her, going past her and into the shower. She followed, hurling away her robe and working to make her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bob; with paints from an artsupply store she had decorated them that afternoon, blue and pink and yellow like the colored living b.a.l.l.s children played with on Franji. ”You haven't had time to go far or really confer with anyone,” she said. ”What was your mission. Rat? I know you took Tephur.” Tephur. Te+ph+ur. Testosterone and phosphoribosyl uricase, in carefully formulated combination. Both the male hormone and the uric acid served to stimulate aggressive behavior. That was ancient knowledge, and Janja had seen him take the caps, and she had seen what they were. ”Never ask.” He was already in the shower. His s.h.i.+rt flew out. A compulsive symbolic cleansing? she wondered, and said, ”But-” ”Nag, nag,” he said, and a hand shot out of the shower stall to grasp a polychromatic breast. It hurt, but she grinned and went along as he ”dragged” her into the sonishower with him. Once again he showed her his strength, slicing away up her while he stood supporting her entire weight, her legs dangling while he hoisted her up and down on him. She was exteriorly cleansed and interiorly inundated. Forty minutes later when he pushed her back on the bed, she made an exaggerated face. The voice she used was just as silly: 206 ”Oh my poor overused stash-again, you virile brute?” ”Must be the testosterone,” he snarled, and turned her laugh into a squeal when he plunged into her. An hour later he said, ”I took out a man who within ten or so months local, ninety-one prob-fac, would have owned enough of this planet to have taken it over and got a lien against the s.p.a.ceport.” ”Ridiculous,” she said, lighting a redhigh and pa.s.sing the smoking, sweet-burning stick to him. ”Um. Unfortunately he was definitely no friend of the people. That kind of one-person monopoly is way too dangerous. Best not to let it happen.” She watched him suck deeply, then again, holding the smoke for a long min before he sagged back into the chair. ”How did you do it?” ”Local gun,” he said, ”loaded with the same virus they use for-among other things-cutting and shaping stone. There's absolutely no escape once the stuff is on you. It . . . eats. Then it consumes itself.” She s.h.i.+vered while he stretched out his legs and sucked again on the stick. It was more powerful than emjay, the most powerful nonchernical orbit-stick yet found. And redhigh increased, rather than depressed, s.e.xual desire and activity, as both he and Janja knew. She bent to kiss his hand. Her fingers drew it up to her bosom. ”The hand of a murderer,” she murmured. ”A killer, a liar, a subverter. O Aglii, what a contemptible monster.” His fingers twisted to clamp, sinking into soft flesh under taut skin. Randomly swirled paint writhed into new patterns and she groaned. ”Stop calling the name of that barbar G.o.d,” he growled. ”This is a training mission, remember?

You're failing.” ”You're . . . hurting me ... but ... no, don't stop . . . who should I call on, then? And 'failing'? Huh! 207 Santharama and Rukminy wouldn't think so! What was he doing?-when you murdered him, 1 mean.” He drew her down, arm tensing to pull with his hand twisted in the varicolored flesh, until she slipped to her knees beside his chair to relieve the strain. He caressed the swell of her hip with his bare foot. ”He was standing in the bathroom of a suite three floors up. Getting head from the hotel's a.s.sistant manager.” ”No!” Her eyes widened. She gazed up at his impa.s.sive face, watching the strange pinkish smoke twist up out of his mouth. ”And-and him?” ”It was a her. Women who attach themselves to bad men deserve the fates of their paramours.” He shook his head and blew at an eddy of smoke before his eyes.

”What draws a woman to a man like that, anyhow? He's mined dozens and caused the deaths of hundreds. No exaggeration. A score of those were by suicide.

Worse even than that General Filatravia.” ”Who?” ”Another of my good deeds, a few months back. So what draws a woman to a man like that, woman?” His pupils were enormous. Janja shook her head. ”I don't know,” she whispered. Her shoulders were hunched. He seemed unaware of his fingers, like constricting serpents in dark tan. Squeezing, kneading, hurting. She sagged against his knee, her hand sliding along his thigh to his groin. / don't know, she thought, and said, ”Let me have a taste.” He pa.s.sed her the narcostick. She sucked, coughed, sucked again. Pink smoke plumed from her nostrils. Her eyes widened a little. She squinted, because the room's light was brightening. His pupils filled the entirety of his eye-sockets. ”And. . .what of her?” ”Didn't see a thing. If she got her mouth off him in 208 time, she's fine. If she didn't, we're in a hotel without an a.s.sistant manager.” She s.h.i.+vered.

”Monster! How can you sit there calmly smoking and tell me about something so awful?” ”How can you be so interested?” he murmured, pus.h.i.+ng her head down.

Pain licked through her breast when he released it and the blood rushed back into the areas constricted by those cable-like fingers. They slid into her hair. ”Have a taste of that.” She did. She had tasted it before. She liked it, liked being between his wiry and powerful legs, liked it when he lost control and became savage or nearly, grasping her head and shoulder to make certain that she would not take away her mouth. And she always hoped, too. But no, this man's seed also had no effect on her mind. Someday she would find an Aglayan, and become more than she was, by sucking him. Meanwhile, she liked it. Later, on the s.h.i.+p, he mentioned another man he had killed while he was with his mistress. A union boss on Franji. ”When you have finished what you want to do, Janja, we have a major mission for you.” She didn't say anything.

Did he mean murder? Their little s.h.i.+p was flas.h.i.+ng back to wherever they had come from (Ratran had set the controls). It was a tiny craft, a three-person s.h.i.+p that was crammed with high-tech devices and little for comfort. He had allowed her to experiment, to handle it a bit, to make sure that she understood its operation. To test her skills and reactions. So he said; obviously she knew it all and besides SIPAc.u.m handled most of it. Janja and Ratran were mere pa.s.sengers, unless SIPAc.u.m-a CAGSVIC-called them. It had not done so for two days Galactic Standard Time and they had risen from the bunk only to relieve themselves 209 and to wallow, once, on the deck-which hurt her back and b.u.t.tocks and elbows and his knees. Now they lay side by side, naked, staring at the light-show he had set to play on the ceiling. They had not showered or done anything to the bunk or the cabin for two days-ess, and the air was full of the odor of redhigh and s.e.x and sweat and the pungent aroma of their own dried juices. ”It is a slaver, Janja.” ”Good.” ”A far bigger and more important slaver than Jonuta.” ”Really? I thought he was the shah of slavers!” ”So do most people. The man who will be your a.s.signment is much less visible, that's all. He wants it that way.” Janja's face showed more than interest. ”Who is he?” She was rubbing his thigh, high up. ”What's his name?” He gave her a smile that was more satiric than satyrish. ”Sorry. First things first.” She made a face, and clutched suddenly. He grunted at the minor pain. Then he rose on one elbow to bite. She grunted, twitched, and neither pulled away nor resisted. ”I hate you,” she whispered, while her hand caressed the back of his head. Pressing his face to her. He licked what he had bitten.

”I hate you too,” he murmured fondly. ”I think you're nearly ready. To get this man, you'll have to take on another ident.i.ty. Captain Janja will do it ... a slaver.” She threw him off and sat up quickly. ”A slaver!” ”Firm.”

Sinking back, he gazed coolly up at her. ”To get to him, you see. He's inaccessible, otherwise. You'll go in as captive.” ”Oh wonderful,” she murmured, flopping back. ”First a slaver, then a captive again. More bondage and rape, I've little doubt. Wonderful. Is that what TGO's about.” ”Ummm. Been practicing for the past year without even knowing, haven't you.” She jerked up into a sitting position in an impressive use 210 of stomach muscles, and slapped him. Without hesitation he slapped her back, twice, and not in the face. She collapsed onto his chest and they held each other. ”So I'm nearly ready, hmm?” she murmured after a time, nuzzling his stubby little nipple.

”Then when do I go after Captain First-Things-First?” ”How about. . .

immediately?” She pulled away and bouncily resumed her naked sitting position.

Now her eyes shone. With the excitement of delight, he saw, not hatred. He wondered about that. Had she forgotten the why of it; her fixation of getting to Qalara, of getting Jonuta? ”Immedia-Rat? Really?” ”Nearly. All you need is a little more training.” He was smiling. She jiggled like an excited child.

”In what, in what?” ”f.e.l.l.a.t.i.o,” he told her, and chuckled chestily. ”Oh well,”

she said, moving down on him. Then she quoted from what seemed her interminable lessons: ”The end justifies the means.” He laughed, but only until her mouth stopped that and made him groan in rising delight. By the time they returned to base, a Panis.h.i.+ merchanter with an outstandingly valuable cargo had been knocked over just on the point of making its approach to Toktaga, in the Tri-System Accord. As usual, the hijackers got away with the whole b.l.o.o.d.y s.h.i.+p. Panish was madder than the owner of a stomped foot, TAI was ”acc.u.mulating evidence and beefing up ins.p.a.ce surveillance,” and the Iceworld Connection ignored Ratran Yao's attempts at communication. Do Not Disturb, Ratran thought angrily; Out To The Fourth Dimension! And he slapped off the comm to that so-secret agent and resumed compiling his so-secret report to a superior he had never seen. 17 You can't have your cake and let your neighbor eat it toe. -Ayn Rand Pleasure is a luxury; to enjoy it one should feel safe from his enemies. -Stendahl The light of both suns of the planet that was not Homework! was bright, and the incredibly beautiful s.h.i.+p flashed bright in their combined light. It was as if poised, lean and sleek, fit for s.p.a.ce and for in-gravity flying, equipped with the latest and the best. It seemed yearning, as Janja stared wide-eyed at it, toward the sky, toward s.p.a.ce. It was the most beautiful s.p.a.cer she had ever seen, and it had just struck her speechless. Such a s.h.i.+p should be called Light of Aglii, she thought, and made no effort to interfere with the rapid beating of her heart. ”You understand that there's a price for all this,” a voice said, and she turned to face Ratran Yao. He wore a white dasheek to mid-thighs and a pair of white shorts only a centimeter or so longer, sandals on bare feet, and dark gla.s.ses. Janja's face did not try to suppress her delight with the s.h.i.+p and its crew as she turned an inquiring gaze on him. 211 212 ”Oh no. You mean you've decided to come along after all?” His teeth flashed in a grin. ”b.i.t.c.h!

You know you wish I would! No, I said a price, not a blessing. It's called t.i.t for tat. We are neither altruists nor socialists, Janja. The giving of sugar-t.i.t without regard for some tat in exchange is the opposite of justice.

It's also stupid. So-” Janja blinked. ”Why Rat darling ... I thought that everything you've been telling me about the goodness of TGO was to prove that it is an altruistic organization!” He stared at her through sungla.s.ses that were dark only one way; she saw his eyes clearly. She was just short of resplendent in fitted but not tightly ensheathing black, picked out and edged with red. The stiffish stand-up collar added a military aspect that was carried out by the soft shoulder-straps, in red. ”Maybe you have a mistaken concept of what 'altruism' is,” he said. ”By its ancient definition, 'altruism' is unnatural and impossible. To do good without thought for self or hope for recompense is not just against human nature-it's against the good of humankind because it promotes the survival of the un-fittest.” His satiric grin flashed briefly. ”Unless one a.s.sumes that the race did further itself as a result of the stupid 'altruistically' giving their lives for those better qualified to survive and reproduce! Otherwise an 'altruist' is someone who helps or 'helps' others in order to appease and gratify its own inner needs.