Ramieres did not comment, instead merely nodded before returning his full attention to the range of' dishes and ingredients before him.

Gerswin swung out of the huge kitchen through the formal pantry and took the wide steps of the grand staircase two at a time.

From the faint scent of perfume to the additional humidity in the upstairs hall, he could tell that Allison had just gotten out of the antique fresher that resembled a shower more than a cleaner.

She was sitting in the rocking chair-another antique that he had found and refinished for her-with Corson at her breast. His sort's eyes widened at the sound of the door and his footsteps, but the three month old did not stop his suckling.

Allison wore a soft purple robe that complimented her fair complexion and blonde hair.

"Interrupted your dressing?"

She nodded with a faint smile. "I always dress for dinner like this."

Grinning back at her, he sat on the side of the bed next to the chair.

"Are you going to stay home tonight? Or go out and play with your new toy?" Her voice was gentle.

He forced the grin to stay in place. "Thought I'd spend the time with you and Corson."

"That would be nice. He's had a late nap, and I think that he will have to have dinner with us."

"He about done?"

"In a minute. He's like you. There's not much in between. When he's hungry, he's hungry. And when he's not, he's ready to tackle the world." Allison brushed a strand of long hair back over her left ear.

Since she was no longer on high-acceleration duty, she had let her hair grow far longer than when they had met, during the refit of the Dybyykk.

He watched as her eyes studied the greedy man-child as he fed.

"Hungry?"

"I am. He eats so much that I can eat just about anything."

"Corson?" he asked quietly.

She laughed a soft laugh. "Why ask? You know he's always hungry, the greedy little pig." She paused. "Like his father."

Gerswin quirked his lips.

Abruptly the baby's mouth left his mother's nipple. He turned his head and eyes toward Gerswin.

"See? When he's done, he's done."

The mother, who had been and remained an I.S.S. pilot, swung her son onto her shoulder and began to pat his back gently.

"I'll do that. You get dressed."

"You don't want me dining in my finery here?"

"You'd shock Ramieres."

"I doubt that. The fact that you might let me appear in anything this revealing might shock him."

Gerswin leaned forward and extended his arms.

In turn, edging forward from the rocking chair, Allison eased Corson into his father's arms.

The commander stood and inched the boy baby farther up onto his left shoulder, holding him in place with his left hand and patting his back with his right hand.

A gentle "brrrp" rewarded his efforts.

"You do that so easily. It amazes me that he's your first."

Gerswin did not make the correction. He had never held Martin, had never even known Martin had existed until well after his first son's death. And perhaps he had had other sons or daughters-that was not impossible, although he did not know of any.

His lips tightened, and he was glad he was looking out the win-dow, facing away from Allison.

How would he know? Much as he attracted women, he also drove them away. How would Allison feel two months, two years from now?

Gerswin repressed a shiver. She had already picked up that he had intended to work on the old scout after dinner. Now . . . how could he?

She had obviously come back to the quarters after a full day in the operations office, determined to look good for him and to spend the time with both Corson and him. So how could he leave?

He forced his face to relax as he turned toward the dressing area where Allison was pulling on a long and decidedly nonuniform low-cut gown.

He could feel Corson's fingers digging into his shoulder, could feel the small body's heat against his, and the smoothness of his son's skin as he bent his head to let his cheek rest against Corson's.

Gerswin let the sigh come out gently, silently enough that Allison would not hear.

"How do I look?"

"Exquisite."

She frowned. "You make me sound like a piece of rare porcelain."

"Not what I had in mind." He grinned, not having to force the expression as much as he feared.

"I know what you had in mind. But I'm hungry, and Corson won't be sleepy until after dinner. Well after dinner."

"Then we shouldn't keep Ramieres waiting."

"No. Not tonight, at least."

Gerswin ignored the hint of bitterness and reached out to brush his fingertips across Allison's cheek.

She grasped them, pressed them to her lips, and smiled her soft smile.

"Shall we go, Commander dear?"

He nodded, and the three of them made their way down the grand staircase toward the dining room, which would dwarf them.

XXII.

LYR TABBED THE portal. Halfway into the foundation office, she realized that someone was sitting before her console.

Without breaking stride, she grabbed the pocket stunner and raised it with her right hand, coming to a halt as she squeezed the firing stud.

Thrummm!

Thud.

The console recliner spun into the console as the intruder flashed to the left before she could readjust her aim.

Thrummm!

Crack!

The stunner flew out of her hand as the intruder, clad in some sort of black that twisted her eyes away from him, swung her around and caught her in a grip that felt unbreakable. She tried to catch a glimpse of his eyes, but he kept her firmly turned away from him.

She attempted to shift her weight, to stamp his feet, to get her elbows into play . . . anything. But none of her self-defense tactics seemed to work. Screaming was useless within the total soundproofing of the office.

Thrummm!

This time the stunner bolt hit her legs, and she felt them collapse under her, although the intruder continued to support her weight. She decided to stop the pointless struggle and see what developed as her assailant, who scarcely seemed any taller than she was, bound her hands behind her and set her on the single settee.

"Stop being ridiculous." The light baritone voice sent a chill through her. She had met him before. The question was when, or where.

"Ridiculous? When there's an intruder using my console?"

She tried to twist her body to catch sight of his face, but he had kept one hand on her shoulder, and without any control of her legs she could not override his light grip.

"Exactly. Are you the only one empowered to use the console? Do you shoot and then ask questions?"

"Only the trustee has the right to use this equipment. And he's never-"

"Ah, Lyr. I interviewed you, give you instructions, and you don't even recognize my voice. Even if it has been a few years, I expected better."

She shivered. Had he been the interviewer? And had the interviewer actually been the anonymous trustee?

"You never said you were the trustee. Am I supposed to ask every common thief, 'Oh, pardon me, are you supposed to be here?"'

She tried to squirm around to face him, but he had not let go of her shoulder.

"Ha!" The single harsh bark resembled a laugh. "Point. Point for you."

"I would like a bit more than points."

"Who else could have given you the access codes?" His voice softened. "And how could anyone have gotten through your defenses without a trace unless they knew the system?"

She was silent for a moment. Finally she responded. "You honestly expected me to think about that when I saw an intruder?"

"Perhaps that was expecting too much."

His tone made her feel guilty, and then angry as she rejected the guilt for being human in her reactions.

"I quit! Right now!"

"If you wish . . . but I won't accept your resignation until we're through talking."

"I told you. I quit."

"Fine. But we're still going to talk. You're not going anywhere under your own power for a few minutes, at least."

Lyr said nothing.

"While your financial management has been excellent, outstanding in fact, I have not been as pleased with your grant policy. Came to suggest some changes."

"I followed the guidelines, exactly as outlined."

"Lyr," answered the soft voice with the hint of iron behind it, "what is past is past. No time to argue. Only to change."

"I'm not arguing." She worried her lower lip. "What were you doing here?"

"My job. I have access here whenever I want. Access built into the system. If you changed that, which would be most difficult, your own employment would have been automatically terminated."

The hard sound of his last sentence gave her the impression that more than her employment would have been terminated.

She could smell him, like the faint scent of wild grass, although only his hand rested lightly on her shoulder. She ignored the scent, pleasant though she found it.

"You never did say what you were doing here."

Instead of answering, he picked her up from behind as if she weighed no more than a small child and carried her the half a dozen steps across the antique carpet to the swivel chair. He placed her in the seat in front of the console. His arm reached across her and tapped the keyboard, his fingers even faster than hers would have been.

"Revised Grant Guidelines"-that was the title that lit up on the screen.

"If you hadn't decided to work in the middle of the night-"

"It was only 2110."

"-you would have found them waiting for you in the morning. As you have on a few other occasions."

"That was you?"

"None other."