In Two, Barton set Limila's dinner down and em- braced her, careful of the two ungainly lumps that bulged her robe.

"Welcome home, lady!" They sat, chairs facing across the small pull-down table.

"You are not hungry. Barton?"

"I've eaten."

"Something more is wrong? It seemed so, when I spoke to Tarleton, but no one would say, so I did not ask."

As she ate, he told her, keeping it brief. "It's a mess, but nothing fatal."

Limila shook her head. "Poor Helaise-trying to he, through another."

"Poor Helaise, hell! How about poor Alene? She's the one that got the dirty end of the stick."

263.

Limila chewed and swallowed a final mouthful. "No.

Helaise forces herself upon a man who takes her because of pity. If she had been willing to share-but no. Tarleton will try to be good to her-through the hate that will grow as he misses Alene, he will try. But-"

"You're underestimating the boss-man." He poured coffee. "Helaise caught him on his soft side, yes. But 'five gets you ten that if he sees it won't work, he'll have her off his ship before the fleet lifts. And save her face when he does it, too."

"It may be you are right-I hope you are. But-you say of Alene?"

"She'll make it all right. We talked-she's hurt, but she's tough."

Limila smiled. "Certainly she has a rare chance. The new man, Abdul-I met him-is he not beautiful? And of a good mind-even the few words I had of him showed me that. He will be welcome among us."

"That's for sure. He impresses the hell out of me, and I don't mean just his size,"

"But if-I wanted to say. Barton-if Alene should need of you, I would gladly have it so."

He smiled and took her hand. "I know you would.

Maybe you will." Hell's bells-he still hadn't told. her!

"Uh-in fact, you already have-at the party, when ap Fenn was getting himself killed."

Knowing full well that he couldn't possibly be in the doghouse, still Barton felt relief at the way Limila smiled, then.

The intercom sounded; Barton answered it.

"Cheng here. Company's coming. Meeting starts in- about ten minutes."

"Thanks. See you then," said Barton. He and Limila dressed and went to the galley. The group assembled rapidly: Tarleton and Helaise, Cheng and Myra, Vito and Liese, Abdul, Alene, and Eeshta.

Kranz was the first off-ship arrival; with him were a heavy-set woman and a boy who looked about seven- teen: Inge Larssen and Clancy Ferns, respectively.

"If you want any hot-pilot work," said Kranz, "Inge's your girl. dance's reflexes are equally good, but he slicks to weapons." At first glance, the two hadn't im- pressed Barton much; he looked at them with new ap- preciation.

264.

Captain Lombard, Estelle Cummings* nominee, ar- rived during the introductory chatter. The girl who ac- companied him was small and dark, slim in her bright sari. In any other context. Barton would have guessed her to be no more than twelve years old. Her forehead bore a red caste mark, and when momentarily she faced away. Barton saw that her black braid of hair reached to the bend of her knee.

"Miss Chindra," said Lombard. "Absolutely top-drawer in communications-and Chin also makes computers jump through hoops." Yes-Barton remembered now.

Limila had mentioned this one. It did look as though the strike force would be carrying some top talent.

Tarleton spread the star map on a table and started the show. It was old stuff to Barton-he followed it with the top of his head, made comments as indicated, and at the same time pursued more personal lines of thought.

Should he have patted Tarieton's ego a little? After all, the man had charge of the combined fleets-his stability was essential. Barton thought about it, and found no answers-

Helaise, he thought, acted the queen bee to perfection.

She said little, but somehow Barton was reminded of some newly favored king's mistress-fresh from slopping hogs and -determined not to show it. But what had evoked this -side of her, that had not shown itself during all the preceding months?

He saw her mouth twist slightly, in reaction to some- thing Tarleton said. What was it?-something about Hishtoo. And then, to Barton, the whole problem, all the pieces, fell neatly into place. Of course ....

Hishtoo-the strike team was going after Hishtoo. And after what had happened to her, getting anywhere near that big lobster-or any other-was the last thing Helaise warned. So-how to wiggle off the strike team with her pride intact? Simple enough-she had tied herself to the one man who had to stay with the fleet.

It was too bad, he thought-it was a lot more than her arm that Hishtoo had broken. He hoped she wasn't count- ing on the command ship as a guarded baven of safety in case of battle-^or if she was, she didn't know her new man very well.

But he revised his earlier opinion-it wasn't a good hard kick she needed. Helaise was in need of repairs-

265.

and. Barton thought, unlikely to get them. Helaise Renzel, casualty ....

No point, he decided, in saying anything to Tarleton- either the man would figure it out for himself or he wouldn't. And a dollop of fear wasn't such a bad thing, objectively, in someone holding down the weapons job.

The discussion wound toward a weary close.' Equip- ment, supplies, timing, goals, tactics, methods, aontin- gencies-all were belabored at length. Finally, Tarleton said, "I think we've covered it. Any further suggestions?"

"I move the meeting adjourn," said Barton. He stood, knowing that if he had timed it right, others would follow suit. As usual with him, it worked. Taking Limila's hand, he said a few good nights and gave a general handwave to the rest. "Good show, Tarleton. See you in the morn- ing." He took Tarleton's nod as permission to leave.

Back in Cabin Two, he asked Limila, "What do you think? Is it solid?"

"Don't you know, Barton?"

"I have my opinion. I want yours, too."

"Yes. So I thought. It is, I think, of enough good."

"I think so, too-but thanks for the double-check."

To Barton, the next day moved too fast for him to follow, and yet endured forever. He talked with Tarleton, with Scalsa, with Alene-and it seemed as though he had never known them, had perhaps newly met them.

The talk was wooden-as was his own mind,