"If you would. Only that I act from duty, not from choice."

"Okay. Next chance I get, I'll do that"

The next day, Myra detected a star-drive wake.

"Either it's an old one," she said, "or else we're getting only the fringe of it. But in the latter case, it could be Hishtoo."

"Too faint to identify?" Barton asked.

"Yes. Most of the pattern detail is blurred."

"How far ahead of us, do you think?"

She shook her head; the sandy bangs needed trim- ming. "Indeterminate-no data, or not enough. If the courses converge, we'll learn more."

"Good enough. Stay on it, and log everything."

"1 will. I already have. Barton-sometimes I wonder why you don't try to tie my shoes for me!"

He looked at her. "I'm sorry, Myra. I guess some- times I fall into the delusion that I'm doing all the think- ing on this boat. I know better, too."

She frowned. "No. I was wrong. Barton. I forgot that while I'm doing my job, you have to try to do every- body's."

Barton grinned. "One way or another. As long as it works." ^

After dinner that evening, back in Cabin One, Limila announced. "Barton-the machinery-I think it is time to rid me of it."

Barton was familiar with the look of the bulky en- zymic filters that hid the transplanted breasts-a lot of metal and plastic, was all, with tiny colored lights flicker- ing out information he didn't understand.

"You sure this stuff is ready to come off?"

"It is as I was told it would be. The lights say it-that the tissues have become the same, and I can have my own tits again. Though they will be small."

She had told him before, but he wanted to be sure he did it right. Yes . * . pull the tubes out slowly, gently. Dab the blood away and spray the small wounds with Tilaran anti-infectant. Apply the bandages. Simple enough . . .

Limila gave no sign of pain but Barton was nervous, anyway. The tubes were longer than he expected. The

273.

gush of blood each time startled him, though it was small and brief. The bandages covered tiny incisions at the bottom of each breast. He was surprised to see no other

scars.

"It is around the tip, at the color change, and so not apparent. The skin was lifted and stretched mjJCh, to accomplish." She half-sighed, half-laughed. "Do you mind, that they are so small?"

Truly, he hadn't noticed. Now he looked, and spoke the truth. "They're just fine, Limila. Whether they grow more, or not. As long as you like them."

She looked at him with silver eyes. "Barton, I will not forget. You have loved me without them. And now, love me with them. We can be less gentle, if we like."

The drive trail-Hishtoo's or another's-departed from the strike team's course. Barton considered follow- ing the spoor, but decided there wasn't enough evidence in favor. During the next few days, the detectors gave no sign. *

Barton hadn't exactly avoided Alene Grover but he hadn't sought her company, either. Then one ,day th& two were alone in the galley.

He eyeballed her. "How's it with you, Alene?"

"Not bad for a loner. I told you I could make it." She looked good-the brash, bushy hair, the strength in her smile-eyes clear, not puffy.

"I should tell you something. Privately. Your place?"

She nodded.

In Two they sat facing, over beers. "You were saying, Barton?"

He told her what Abdul Muhammed had said. Her smile was rueful. "I'd figured it had to be something like that. I knew the big gorgeous joker liked me, all right.

And I like him-I still do. He's good, that one." She sighed, then exaggerated it. "I would get stuck with a monastic. On the other hand, why the hell am I-are any of us-so damned hung up on sex, anyway?"

"Well," said Barton, "the way they designed these ships, there wasn't room for a volleyball court. So we make do. .. ."

Eyes narrowed, she met his gaze. "Barton, if you try to offer me a charity fuck-I will kick you square in the balls!"

"Who, me?" Barton rearranged his thinking. "Wouldn't

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dream of it-you're not the type. You want to know-I liked everything a lot, with us. I like you. But no charity.

I don't happen to be a charitable man."

She had leaned forward so that her hair hid her eyes.

Now she raised her head. "AH right, Barton-I guess I asked for that. 1 like you, too. But if you ever want me again, you're going to have to ask-and ask damned nice!"

He gauged the risk and laughed, right in the face of her vulnerability. "That's fine, Alene," he said. "Maybe I will."

He left before she could find an answer. But she was smiling.

They had entered Scalsa's "corridor"-where a return- ing ship might need to rendezvous with the fleet. Barton saw to it that numerous landmark sights were taken-if he had to meet somebody in a hurry, he wanted to know the neighborhood.

A week later the detectors caught another sniff- fresher, and pointing toward the area of Sisshain-quite possibly Hishtoo. Barton called a viewscreen conference.

"We've got a nibble. Time to go maximum accelera- tion."

An hour later, Limila-on comm-called him back to control. "The other ships. Barton-they fall behind."

Sure enough. Ship One was .visibly pulling away from Thirty-four, which in turn was building a slighter lead over Thirteen-

"I suppose there were bound to be small differences,"

he said. Then he laughed. "Know what? I'm betting that Tarieton looked at the test-flight results of all our seven- teen U.S. ships, and picked the one with the longest legs."

"But.what do we do?" she asked.

"Set up the three-way again, will you, please?"