269.

"You certainly don't need any more training that I could give, Abdul. Just practice when you feel like it.

Okay?"

"When on watch and not otherwise busy, it is my habit to work against problems-random series-from the computer. I would like to continue to do so."

"Oh, sure-fine." Barton thought of something." "Tell me-does the computer ever win?"

"Of course. Barton-I do not restrict its parameters.

Sometimes it almost appears to become angry, and by sheer force it-what do you say?-wipes me out."

Barton laughed. "Well-if you can make the computer throw in its reserves, you're doing all right." And after a little more routine chatter, he left Abdul to his hobby.

He went below and made maintenance checks on the drive's tuning and the Shield balance. Returning, he found the entire crew in the galley, with the view^creen on relay from control. They were playing the familiar game of "What's going to happen?" Barton poured himself some coffee, and sat in.

The alternatives were solid enough: Hishtoo would go to Sisshain or he wouldn't; Ship One would catch him first, or not. At Sisshain they could either handle what they met or would have to run for help. And the permu- tations of these choices were finite.

"... unless," said Barton, "we're overlooking a joker in the deck." He turned to Eeshta. "What do you think?"

"I know little of Sisshain, Barton, but I know the Demu.

You wish to speak with them, and I would like to be- lieve that they will listen. But I think there will be much death, and I grieve, that I must be a cause of it.' Even though, having seen what I have seen, I know that my people, the Demu, do wrong, and must change. No matter what happens to me, if against all Demu will and pride, you force that change."

Barton frowned. "I don't think I understand you."

The small creature sighed. "When all is over, if I live, I must submit myself to Demu judgment, for what I do now. To Hishtoo-or if he is dead, to another. And if I am told to die-"

"Forget -it, Eeshta! I won't let you do any such thing."

"Barton-though I have come to know you and feel well of your people, yet I am Demu. and know what my actions mean. I am pleased that you value my life-

270.

but even so, I will do what is required of me." Standing now, Eeshta left the galley.

Limila held Barton's arm or he would have followed.

She said, "Do not fight her thought now. But think upon it."

Frowning again, he shook his head. "Yeh-the Demu mind. She's our window on it. But I won't let her sacrifice herself. .,."

"Nor I," said Limila. "But no point, now, to argue.

Our part is to save our effort for the occasion, if it comes."

"Yes." Gently, careful for the apparatus she still wore, he bugged her. And decided to keep his mouth shut.

After a pause, Abdul looked at his watch and an- nounced that he was going back to control, to make a data check in real time for the upcoming course change.

As he left, Cheng stood, and drew Myra up also. Saying, "Time to go. I'm due on watch in an hour." Well, Bar- ton thought, it made sense if you listened right.

Alene said, "There goes a good pair. I never under- stood why Myra and Tarleton didn't mesh, before he and I-well, it doesn't matter, does it?'*

Without thinking. Barton said, "How do you iik9 Abdul?"

Alene's face went blank. "I don't seem to exist." She rose- "Will you excuse me?"

Left alone with Limila, Barton said, "The famous Barton tact strikes again. Mind telling me what I did wrong this time?"

Limila shook her head. "There is a difficulty between them, it would seem. But I bad not known, either." And that was that.

On the eighth day they changed course. To minimize time iag the ships grouped closely; from Thirty-four, Chindra gave the coordinates. Oa the mark, all three ships shifted thrust vectors; straight ahead now, though not yet visible, lay the dust cloud. "Good job," said Bar- ton, to Abdul-and, by screen, to the other two pilots.

Inge Larssen grinned. "We do our best." On Thirty- four, Lombard touched an eyebrow in casual salute, and behind him Miss Chindra shyly raised a hand. Barton smiled and waved back to all of them, then signed to Eeshta to cut the screen.

271.

It was time for Cheng to relieve Abdul of the watch.

Barton waited while Cheng, straight-faced, confirmed the course he'd watched Abdul lay. The formalities done, Abdul turned to leave. Barton followed. "Got a few minutes? Like to talk with you."

"Surely. Will you join me in Compartment Five?"

A good host, Abdul produced cold beer. As tffe two sat. Barton decided he was getting used to the other's great size. Trying to think of a good lead-in, he said, "How are you settling in, on here? Any problems? I mean, confusion about different customs, anything like that?"

Like a god blessing his worshipers, Abdul Muham- med smiled. "ID general, I have been made to feel very much at home; you have good people here. But yes, I am often puzzled. I observe, though, and think-and in most cases I come to understand,"

"Most, huh? Anything puzzling you right now?"

Face blank, the god Abdul became an enigmatic Buddha. "Yes. Alene Grover. I believe she wishes to cohabit with me."

I've heard of worse problems. Barton thought, but he waited, and Abdul said, "She is a fine woman. But I may not do such a thing."

Barton sighed. "I expect she'll live. You told her yet?"

"I find the prospect difficult. Barton, I would-explain to you- Another beer, perhaps?"

"Sure. Thanks." Barton settled back, into listening mode.

"It is not," said Abdul, "that I am a Puritan; I do not find the concept valid. My people's sexual customs, originally quite ritualized, underwent many changes dur- ing and after the rebellions. Including a period of recoil to a brand of Puritanism much the same as that accepted in your own country for so long." He smiled again.

"You see, I am historically cognizant."

"You are, that. But then what's the problem?"

"On its ships, my country sent only men. So my wife has said that while I may have no woman, she will have no man. My words cannot reach Earth, to tell her she might be more free. So in fairness, I may not accept.

Alene Grover. Do you understand?"

"Yeh." Shit oh dear-people could sure find ways to make things tough on themselves! "Like me to say any- thing for you, to Alene? Get you off the he ok?" A little

272.

horrified. Barton found himself volunteering, of all things.